


Sacrifice

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Talia Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, BAMF Stiles, Beta Derek Hale, Derek Hale Protects Stiles Stilinski, Derek Likes Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Everybody Lives, F/M, Frottage, Hale Family Feels, Human/Werewolf tension, Human/Werewolf war, Hunter Scott McCall, M/M, Making Out, Manipulated Scott, No Kate/Derek, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Cooks, Stiles Likes Derek, Stilinski Family Feels, The Argent Family, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf/human segregation, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are werewolves in the world. They are regarded as nothing but barbaric animals who require a yearly sacrifice to keep them at bay. In Beacon Hills, the Argents select a sacrifice every year, and Kate Argent has been eyeing Stiles off for the past three years, but his status as the Sheriff’s son has saved him each time. Four days after his father’s death, Stiles is selected as the town’s sacrifice.</p><p>He’s taken in by the Hales and learns all about werewolves - including the fact that he’s now Derek’s mate. They have to work things out together, which could prove difficult when Stiles can’t actually leave the Hale house on his own yet. Then a war starts, one that has been boiling under the surface for years, unknown but to a select few. When Stiles gets caught up in this war, he’s pitted against Scott, his former best friend who has become one of the Argent’s best hunters.</p><p>In between all of this, Stiles has to choose between staying a human or becoming a wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Werewolves are known, but only believed to be actual wolves by most of the general public. A high percentage of the land on Earth is covered in forests, with areas carved out for towns and small cities.

Stiles sighed for what felt the twentieth time in as many minutes. His nose was itchy, but thanks to the fact that his hands were tied and bound to the tree above his head, the itch was just going to have to keep being an irritant until ... well, until he was killed, he supposed.

Being a virgin sacrifice wasn't exactly something that Stiles had planned for his future, but it seemed that his own plans didn't matter. The wolves in Beacon Hills were apparently more progressive than their human counterparts because his male gender didn't matter either.  _Just the virgin part_ , he remembered Kate's words and accompanying sneer with a grimace of distaste. He didn't like Kate Argent on the best of days, and after she'd kicked in his front door and dragged him out to the Argent residence to be prepared for sacrifice, Stiles wasn't exactly willing to rethink his impression of her.

He had been protected while his father was alive and still Sheriff of Beacon Hills. Now that John was dead and no longer Sheriff, Stiles was fair game for Kate Argent. Kate had been eyeing him off as a sacrifice for the past three years, ever since he had insulted her father by implying that he was a lunatic and worse than the wolves in the forest (he still believed that it was true; Gerard was one crazy sonofabitch).

The full moon was due in a matter of hours, and Stiles was expecting to die a mere four days after his father's death. He hadn't even been given a week to grieve. He hoped that his death would be a quick one, otherwise Stiles knew that he'd be caught up in thoughts of what was happening at his home: most likely the ransacking of his childhood home now that it was no longer protected or lived in. He hoped the looters tripped  **all**  of his booby traps, and Stiles  _really_  hoped that at least one of them would lose a fucking arm.

He had been expecting Kate, honestly, even before he had received Allison's warning the day before. Still, he'd replied to her text stating that her debt was repaid and not to worry about him.

Stiles had saved Scott from this very fate a year and a half ago by informing the Argents that Scott was no longer a virgin. It had saved his best friend, though it had been at the expense of his own relationship with Scott. The young lovers had been given an ultimatum once the truth was known: either stop seeing each other or stop seeing Stiles. Kate had smirked so fucking smugly, as if she knew exactly which one they would choose, but to be fair, Scott did think about it for a good three minutes until Stiles kicked him in the shin and told him to go to Allison already. He didn't blame Scott for his choice, no, he laid all of that blame squarely where it deserved to be: on Kate Argent.

Stiles supposed that it was fair that neither Allison nor Scott came to his rescue when he was dragged out to Kate's car. Stiles remembered how Allison had  _screamed_  for Scott eighteen months ago, and he couldn't help but compare it to the silence that had reigned at his own capture. Scott looked upset, but Gerard had put his creeper hand on Scott's shoulder, forcefully leading his granddaughter and her boyfriend away.

Stiles was brought out of his reminiscing abruptly when he heard a few leaves crunching in the forest around him. He tried to move around, his arms now nothing but dead weight above him, trying to see who - or what - was coming for him. There was half a second of hope that maybe Scott or Allison would try to rescue him after all, but that hope was dashed very quickly when a wolf stepped out of the tree line and into the clearing. The black wolf growled softly, eyes glowing gold, and Stiles forced himself to be quiet.  _Right, as though_ ** _that_** _would help_. He contemplated calling out, begging the wolf to have mercy - just another three days to complete his grieving period, even - but that would be stupid, because everyone knew that the wolves were nothing but animals.  _Right?_

The wolf took its time coming over to him - of course, why would it hurry when he was strung up like a children's toy piñata, like a lamb tied to a stake, like a feast served up on a platter? No, it had no reason to hurry when Stiles was going absolutely nowhere while this  **animal**  killed and ate him. At least, he hoped it would be in that order. He wasn't too fond of the idea of being alive while he was getting gnawed to death.  _Oh god, he was going to be gnawed to death, wasn't he? This just was not his day, which kind of sucked considering it was going to be his last day on Earth_.

Stiles promised himself to be brave. He held his head high and bit back his whimper of fear when the wolf stopped a mere ruler's length away from him. The wolf made a whining sound that sounded kind of ... confused? Then it let out a howl and leaped.  ** _Fuck_** _being brave_ , Stiles thought as his heart almost hammered its way out of his chest. He winced, cringed the best he could with numb limbs, and tried to anticipate the agonising pain that this death was sure to bring. Only, there was no pain. A warm and hard body was pressed against his, and Stiles opened his eyes to find himself covered by a ...  _a man?_  Now Stiles was confused, because  _what the actual fuck?_  He'd heard rumours of the wolves being  _more_  than wolves, of course - everyone had - but Stiles had dismissed it easily enough with the usual falsehoods that revolved around the wolves. ( _If this was true, then what else was true? Did the wolves truly have their own social rules then? Was it possible that they were_ ** _more_** _than just a pack of animals that lived for nothing less than the taste of human flesh and yearly sacrifices?_ )

He opened his mouth to question the man - werewolf, not just a wolf - but then the very attractive man ( _this was neither the time nor the place to notice that sort of thing_ , he told himself sternly) lowered his mouth to Stiles' neck and bit down. Stiles' still-racing heart and overwhelmed brain - both of which had been expecting a bite and excessive pain - kind of stuttered at the contact and he fainted, his body heavy and swaying against the rough bark of the tree as he lost consciousness and all ability to hold himself upright.

His mouth still latched onto the sacrifice's neck, Derek retracted his fangs and swore. This just wasn't his day.

...

Stiles woke up in an unfamiliar room, tried to get up, and promptly fell out of the bed he'd been placed in. He swore, wincing as pain shot up his leg, and didn't even have time to recover before the door opened. A man stood there, looking anxious and worried, his hand still on the door handle. Stiles recognised him as the man from the forest, remembering everything that had occurred as clear as crystal.

"Are you all right?" the man asked uncertainly.

"Fine, just fell out of bed. Happens all the time," Stiles muttered, standing up. "Uh, so I guess you're the wolf?

He nodded briefly, his fingers tightening on the handle, and Stiles wondered if he was strong enough to rip the door off the hinges to hurt him with it.  _Or maybe he'd use it as a shield?_  Right now, after discovering that most of the propaganda he'd been told was nothing but lies, Stiles had no idea what to think about wolves.

"All right. Do you have a name?" Stiles asked, trying to stand in a way that proved he really was as weak as he looked.

"Derek," he replied shortly, looking at Stiles oddly as if he was trying to put a puzzle together without all of the pieces.

"I'm Stiles, it's nice to meet you. And, uh, thanks for not eating me. If you have to 'cause of rituals or something, can I at least finish my grieving period? It's only for another three days, so you won't go hungry for too much longer," Stiles added, trying to smile.

"You were offered as sacrifice during your grieving period?" Derek asked, a growl at the back of his throat.

"Uh, yeah. Kate Argent hates my guts enough to want them torn out of me as soon as possible," he said with a small shrug.

"Who are you grieving?" Derek asked hesitantly.

"My Dad. He was the Sheriff up until four days ago. Routine job on a domestic between two humans that went south pretty damn fast, which is seriously ironic considering we live in a world where wolves exist solely to kill and devour humans... Although, I guess you don't, 'cause I'm still alive. Uh, you  _don't_ , do you?"

"No. Human flesh isn't appetising to any wolves that I know, at least," Derek added with a shrug. "It's mostly for show, and it keeps people away from us. All wolves have an agreement with their local area, where we get sacrifices to help strengthen our packs."

"Wait, what? Who do you have an agreement with? Who decides who's sacrificed and who isn't? Wait... It's the Argent's, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Sorry, dumb question. Uh, so does that mean the others are alive? Kate's wanted me dead for the last three years, and each year it ended up being someone else instead. I wrote their names down so I would never forget, and if they're alive, I kind of really want to see them and thank them," Stiles said, his ramble ending with him straightening and looking at Derek intently, waiting for a reply.

Derek opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before snapping it shut, turning and leaving. Stiles waited for exactly three seconds before he ran after Derek, his curiosity getting the better of him (it usually did). The house was surprisingly large, filled with warmth and laughter that had been absent from Stiles' own life despite his and his father's best efforts, and while he wanted to see everything, Stiles kept close to Derek. He opened a door and walked in before Stiles, whether to guard him or hide him, Stiles didn't know. Then he saw exactly who was in that room and his eyes widened.

"Vernon Jules Boyd, Erica Susanne Reyes, Isaac Joseph Lahey," Stiles recited on seeing the three teenagers alive and seated around a huge dining table like it was an everyday occurrence for them (it probably was, they had to eat something, obviously). "Thank you for sacrificing yourselves in my place," he said, wishing he could give more than words to them; his simple words would  _never_  be enough.

Thinking he could risk it, Stiles ducked past Derek so he could hug them. Derek growled behind him, and while the teenagers seemed surprised at first, they relaxed when Stiles just wrapped his arms around each of them to hug them tightly.

"Thank you so much," Stiles said, eyes squeezed shut as he told himself not to cry in front of these people.

"No problem. I was planning on offering for sacrifice anyway. Being shoved in a freezer for most of your childhood does things to a person," Isaac said, shrugging.

 _Oo-okay then_... Stiles promised himself to get a longer and more detailed explanation of  _that_  someday.

"Cured my epilepsy, so I'm good," Erica said, winking at him saucily and making Derek growl again. "Oh, and I also got to meet my beau here," she added, pressing a kiss to Boyd's cheek.

Boyd rolled his eyes in the fondest way Stiles had ever seen, but he smiled at Erica like she was pure sunshine. "I'm fine too, Stilinski. Don't have to sit on my own anymore."

"Yeah, ever. 'Cause that's my seat now. Forever. I claimed it," Erica said with a laugh, moving to sit on her boyfriend's lap. "Speaking of claiming," she trailed off, looking at Stiles' neck pointedly.

"Erica! That's  _enough_ ," Derek snapped.

"What? What's she talking about?" Stiles asked, looking between them with a frown. "Did you do something weird and kinky to me in the forest? Do I smell like wolf jizz now, or something?"

Isaac promptly choked on his drink, spluttering his laughter.

"I see that our guest is finally awake. I'm Talia Hale, Derek's mother, but perhaps now isn't the best time for introductions?" Talia asked, smiling at Derek.

Stiles could immediately see the family resemblance, and  _oh holy hell_ , he'd just said  _wolf jizz_  in front of  **Derek's mum**. "Oh god. Shit, sorry about that. And that. I didn't mean... I mean... Hi, I'm Stiles Stilinski. It's nice to meet you, and I'm very glad your son didn't eat me. Y'know, as a sacrifice. Oh god, I'm just going to shut up now," Stiles said, panicking to the point of hyperventilating.

Talia just smiled that same smile at him and moved forward, her arms open. Stiles breathed in relief when she just hugged him (yeah, okay, he kind of knew what the others must've felt like with him just kind of throwing himself at them now -  _oops_ ), and hugged her back firmly.

"Now, I take it that Derek hasn't extended any of the basic courtesies to you yet? Would you like something to eat or drink?" Talia asked, smiling down at Stiles as she stepped back and shot a look of disappointment over her shoulder at Derek.

"Do you have juice?" Stiles asked, realising just how thirsty he was. He could drink a whole carton of juice and probably still want more.

"We've got apple or orange. There should be blackcurrant in the pantry too," Derek supplied quickly, wincing at his mother's reprimanding look.

"Apple would be good, thanks. Uh, what's going to happen to me? I mean, if you don't eat the sacrifices, what happens to them? Do they all end up wolves?" Stiles asked, looking towards Boyd, Erica, and Isaac.

"We can discuss it in the kitchen. Come, I'll show you where it is. Derek, why don't you run ahead and get a glass of apple juice for Stiles?" Talia suggested.

Derek nodded quickly and glanced at Stiles before he ran off.

"You don't have to become a wolf if you don't want to be a wolf. There are other roles within the pack, or alternatively, you can go to another town. Sometimes people don't fit with our pack, but we know the neighbouring wolves well, and Deucalion is a kind Alpha who's open-minded and willing to accept all types, wolf or not. As are we, of course," Talia added.

"Do you have any humans in your pack now?" Stiles asked curiously.

"Yes. My sister-in-law is human, as is one of her children. We also have an emissary, who is ... well, he's human compared to us," she said with a slight laugh. Her laugh cut short and Stiles looked up to see Talia frowning deeply. "I apologise for this, Stiles. It seems my son is nervous and as a result he's overreacting."

'Overreacting to what?' is what Stiles  _would have_  asked, if Talia hadn't opened the kitchen door to reveal Derek attempting to juice apples with his wolf claws.

"Uhh-wha?" Stiles said instead.

Derek looked up immediately, his cheeks red in embarrassment, and his eyes a bright yellow. Before either one could say anything, Talia moved into the kitchen and took Derek's head in her hands.

"Derek,  _calm down_."

Stiles didn't know what was up with Talia's voice, but he suddenly mellowed the hell out and slumped down to the floor. Stiles had no idea what Derek did, but he assumed he had calmed down as well, because then Talia was there kneeling in front him, a hand caressing his cheek lightly.

"I apologise, Stiles. It wasn't my intention to do that to you as well. But it might be best if you sleep for now. I will personally explain everything and answer your questions when you wake up," Talia promised, and Stiles was so calm that he fell asleep right there on the kitchen floor.

"Sorry, mum," Derek said, sighing as he looked at the mess of apple cores he'd created on the bench. "Cora drank the last of the apple juice and put the empty carton back, and I thought I'd be able to juice the apples myself, but..."

"Derek, it's all right. I know what you were trying to do and while it was an admirable thought, it's not going to clean the apple pieces any faster."

Derek flushed and nodded, starting to clean up. He looked over to Stiles, still slumped against the kitchen wall, and Talia sighed, putting her hand on her son's shoulder.

"Take Stiles upstairs and I'll clean this for you. I assume you took the apple juice carton out of the fridge?"

Derek nodded, his eyes flicking over to the recycling bin that had a juice carton with five claw holes in it. Talia kissed his cheek softly.

"Everyone is aware that you've claimed him as your mate, but Stiles doesn't understand what that entails. When he wakes up, I will explain everything, all right?"

"Thanks, mum," he breathed, hugging her and breathing in her scent.

He could smell Stiles' scent on her and Derek wanted nothing more than to howl at the fact that his Alpha and his mate had already scent marked each other.

"Go, Derek. Take care of that young man; he's special," Talia said.

Derek nodded, moved to pick Stiles up carefully, and carried him upstairs to his room again.

...

End of first chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up in the same bed, and took a moment to think about where he was and what had happened so he wouldn't fall out of the bed again. He looked over to where Derek was sleeping in the armchair beside the bed. He looked pretty out of it, so Stiles took a chance to look around the room, slipping out of bed quietly to look at the bookcase. There were a few fiction books, a few more non-fiction, and some knick knacks tucked around the books as well - most notably, a collection of wolf's teeth, and a set of small claws. Stiles looked at the photographs that were stuck to the walls curiously.

 

_Derek and his mother in their half-wolf forms, another man standing between them smiling proudly with such a similar smile and eyes to Derek that he could only be his father._

_Erica riding piggyback on Boyd and pulling a face with Derek and Isaac laughing beside them._

_A younger Derek and two girls that Stiles presumed to be his sisters, the taller girl leaning on Derek and pretending to use him as a stand, while the smaller girl had her arms wrapped around his waist tightly, and though Derek was scowling at his older sister, he still looked happy._

_Derek trying to look serious in a suit while another man was in the background, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes_ (there was obviously some family resemblance between them _, Stiles thought,_ even though the other man was much fairer than Derek).

 

"Stiles?" Derek asked, rubbing his eyes as he woke up.

 

"Hey. Uh, are you all right now? You kind of freaked out earlier," Stiles said, frowning at him.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that, I... Oh, wait. I'll be right back," Derek said, running out of the room without waiting for a response.

 

Stiles shook his head slightly at his odd behaviour and left the wall of photos to go over to the bedroom window. It was a large window, almost floor to ceiling, and there was a fantastic view of the forest. Stiles couldn't actually see Beacon Hills, but he figured that if the forest wasn't there, it would be in his direct line of sight. Never mind, the forest looked better anyway.

 

"Ah, so _you're_ the newest sacrifice," an amused voice said behind him.

 

Stiles turned around to see the fair-haired man standing in the doorway, smiling in a way that made him want to shudder.

 

"I hope you're planning on staying for dinner," the man said, snapping his teeth with that smile still on his face.

 

"Peter, stop trying to traumatise our guest. Susan's looking for you," Talia added, giving her younger brother an unimpressed look.

 

"Right, I'd better go find her then!" Peter said jovially, leaving with a cheery whistle.

 

"Uh, is he... all right?" Stiles asked.

 

"My brother can be somewhat of a trickster, but he's mostly harmless. Unless threatened, that is. He is not someone to be trifled with," Talia murmured, looking down the hallway to where Peter was kissing his wife's neck to make her laugh. "I promised to explain everything, and answer any questions you had, so let's get started," she added, turning her attention back to Stiles as she stepped into Derek's room and closed the door behind her.

 

"Is Derek going to be here?" Stiles asked, feeling his cheeks heat.

 

"Would you like him to be?" Talia asked with a smile.

 

Stiles wanted to say yes because he somehow felt safer with Derek around, but at the same time he wanted to say no because he might want to ask questions about Derek.

 

"Uh, no. It's okay."

 

"All right. Would you like to ask any questions, or should I just start talking?" Talia offered.

 

"I think I'll save the questions until later," Stiles said, sitting on the bed as Talia sat on the armchair.

 

"Werewolves have coexisted with humans for as long as we can remember. Humans started to hunt our kind, almost driving us to extinction, and when we decided to fight back, it was the human population that started dwindling instead. The war lasted far longer than either side would have liked, but eventually, both sides came to an agreement. If the war would stop, then the humans and wolves would leave each other alone. A group of select humans would ensure that their side were safe and protected, they would ensure that the forests were maintained for us to run in peace, and in return we would ensure that other creatures would leave the humans alone and we would keep them safe.

 

"Every year, a human would be given to the wolves as an act of goodwill and as thanks for our protection. It was also another way to protect the humans, for the ones offered to us would be considered weak to the humans in one way or another, and if they agreed to the bite, then the human would become strong again and flourish within the wolf pack. It was a way to keep both the sides strong.

 

"Time passed and the treaty seemed to work. Both human and wolf sides were balanced and all was well. Then the humans added another amendment to the treaty: we had to be actual wolves when in the forests. Most of us didn't mind this amendment as we already spent most of our time running as wolves in the forest, but then we realised that the humans were calling us _monsters_ and _beasts_ , using our wolf forms to scare the rest of the population. They let our presence be known to the rest of the humans, but as nothing more than mindless animals, rather than as their protectors. It was a tense time, and another war was almost started, but we thankfully managed to avoid bloodshed."

 

Talia paused for a moment, looking at Stiles as he sat enraptured, eyes wide as he listened to her story. She smiled gently and then continued.

 

"Some humans choose to be turned, while others stay human. We can give them passage to another town if they choose to travel, or they can stay within the pack as a human if they prefer. It is rare, but it does happen."

 

"You said that your sister-in-law's human?" Stiles asked, receiving a nod in return.

 

"Yes, Susan chose to stay human. She is Peter's mate, and while I'm sure he would prefer her to be a wolf to keep her safe, he wants her happiness above all. She is happy being human, and they have two children together: one human and one wolf."

 

"She's his mate?" Stiles asked, wondering why it sounded so _important_ when Talia said it.

 

"As wolves, we have the ability to find a mate. They are the person who brings out the best in us, who centres and grounds us, and who we would do anything for. Our wolves recognise our mates by scent, and we mark them in a claiming bite so that other wolves will know not to harm them. If a wolf hurts another wolf's mate, it usually instigates a fight that can end in death depending on the severity of the harm. It sounds harsh, but mates are precious to wolves, especially when it is so difficult to find them while restricted to our forests," Talia added at Stiles' frown.

 

"So you don't get to travel, even though you look human?" Stiles asked. "Why not join one of the buses that goes to the other towns every month?"

 

The buses had different routes to other towns to promote tourism and breeding (though **that** part wasn't exactly advertised, everyone knew it anyway), and allowed people to get there through the forests without coming across any wolves. Well, that's what they'd been led to believe anyway. Stiles doubted that any of the wolves would harm anyone in the forest. Hell, from what he'd seen, they'd probably give them directions back to the closest town and offer a packed lunch for their trip.

 

"The buses have mountain ash in their frames, which means that we can't board them. Besides, the idea of being stuck in an enclosed space alongside so many humans for such a long period of time is not exactly appealing as we have such delicate senses. Most humans aren't aware how loud they can be, let alone how pungent their own odours are, but we can hear and smell nearly everything. It is extremely overwhelming to many wolves, especially when not all of us are used to being near humans for long stretches of time."

 

"Do I smell?" Stiles asked immediately, alarmed and sniffed his shirt not very discreetly.

 

Talia laughed and shook her head. "No, my dear boy, you are fine."

 

Stiles dropped the hem of his shirt quickly, neck flushing. They sat there in silence for a long while as he tried to process everything that Talia had told him. It was a lot to take in, and he had what felt like a billion questions flying around his head.

 

"You said that wolves mark their mates in a claiming bite," Stiles said slowly, his fingers brushing against the bite on his neck. "Did... Did Derek claim me?"

 

"Yes," Talia said simply, giving him a brief nod.

 

"Oh... Okay. So... Do I get a say in this? Or it's just whatever goes 'cause he's a wolf?" he asked, trying hard not to raise his voice, but failing somewhat.

 

"You have a say in it, Stiles. Derek's bite just means that he has claimed you, not that you have accepted. You are always presented with a choice, and you will never be thought less of for your decision. While we may look human, we have a different set of moral ethics and standards than our human cousins."

 

"Yeah, but you still accept the sacrifices every year," Stiles snapped, hating himself for his words even as he said them.

 

"Of course we do. In the past, some of our kind tried to refuse the sacrifices, and when the leaders of the towns realised, they killed the people rather than take them back into the community. It was a waste of lives - _innocent lives_ \- and it was not something that we wanted to be blamed for, nor wanted to condone. We learned the hard way not to refuse the sacrifices, which is why we always bring them back here and offer a choice."

 

"You said people, not _children_ or _teenagers_. You mean the stories are true? Other towns select sacrifices based on something other than their virginity?" Stiles asked, too surprised to be embarrassed.

 

His father had never allowed Stiles to go on one of the buses out of town, and while Stiles had heard stories about the other towns from some people, a lot of people (mainly Jackson) tended to lie to Stiles simply because of his father's job. Most of the time, Stiles had no idea what to believe, and just kept his head down while at school. Even more so after Scott.

 

"Yes, that's true. It's not exactly diverse if we have packs with wolves that all have the same attributes, whether it is an attribute that can be altered or not. That is another reason why some people choose to travel to another pack," Talia said with a smile. "I'm sure I've given you enough to think about; do you have any questions?"

 

"What does being a mate actually entail? I mean, do I have to ... I don't know, **do** anything in particular? I'm not making my decision right now, I just like to have all of the information before deciding on anything possibly life-changing. Well, when I have the choice," Stiles muttered under his breath, remembering the way Kate had dragged him out of his own house without giving him a single choice.

 

"I have plenty of books on werewolves and mates, if you'd prefer? I'm not sure that I can detail everything properly without going into significant detail of my own relationship with my husband. I'm sure you don't want to hear that perspective," Talia added, trying to hold her laugh back when Stiles' eyes widened.

 

"Uh, no. Thank you?" he added uncertainly.

 

Then she did laugh, tipping her head back and laughing until she could hardly breathe. _His expression was absolutely priceless!_ Talia probably shouldn't have teased him like that, but it was worth every moment. Stiles seemed to relax at the sound of her laughter, and she could see him grinning at her as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

 

"Oh, thank you for that, my dear boy. I will get Derek to bring the books for you. He may be a bit oversensitive to your needs, so if you feel that he's suffocating you, just tell him that you need some time alone. It can be a confusing time for wolves when we first find our mates, as we want to spend as much time with them as possible. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was sitting outside of the room right now," Talia added, looking over to the closed door.

 

"Really? Wait, you said that werewolves can hear everything. Does that mean Derek's heard this entire conversation?" Stiles asked, his face flushing red.

 

"No. We do allow each other some privacy, and all of the bedrooms are soundproofed when the doors are closed. It is a spell that our emissary, Deaton, did for us. We can hear what's happening if danger's detected, no matter if the doors are closed, but everything else is private. Silence and privacy are two luxuries that are not often afforded to most wolves, so we are very lucky to have Deaton," Talia said, smiling.

 

Stiles eyed the door curiously, as if trying to determine exactly what made it soundproof, and Talia took it as her cue to leave. She stood up to do that, and was surprised when Stiles scrambled off the bed to stand and hug her warmly.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hale."

 

"You're welcome, Stiles. And please, call me Talia."

 

Stiles sat on the bed again as she left, opening the door carefully to allow Derek to stand up without falling backwards. He looked a little embarrassed to be caught sitting on the floor, but Talia just smiled.

 

"Stiles has requested a few books about wolves and mates. I'll select them from the library, would you bring them up for him?" she asked Derek before he could barge into the room.

 

Derek opened his mouth, wanting to go and be with Stiles already - he could smell him, hear his heartbeat, and his mother smelled like she'd hugged Stiles again - but then he closed his mouth and nodded.

 

"I'll be back soon," Derek said to Stiles, smiling brightly at him before following his mother.

 

Stiles brought his knees up to his chest, trying to calm his hammering pulse at Derek's smile, wrapping his arms around his legs tightly. Derek returned less than three minutes later, his arms loaded with books. He placed the books on his desk carefully and stepped back, looking torn between his desire to give Stiles space or just crowd around him until he could see-hear-feel-smell nothing but Stiles. It was a bit disconcerting, and seriously overwhelming, but at the same time, Stiles felt the exact same way about Derek. Which made it even worse, really, because he wasn't sure if he was feeling this way about the other man due to their mate bond or because he was actually attracted to him. (Actually, the attraction was pretty much a given, but Stiles was wary because he didn't know how much of it was his own response and how much wasn't.)

 

"Have you read these books already?" Stiles asked curiously, hoping that starting a conversation would be a good way to get to know Derek more.

 

Derek nodded briefly. "We all have to read them as part of our schooling."

 

"Schooling? So do you have a school that's just for werewolves or something?" Stiles asked.

 

"No, my parents home-schooled all of us. It's easier than trying to get to a town school," Derek admitted.

 

"Because of the smell? Or that ash stuff?"

 

"Both, really. Beacon Hills has mountain ash fences which are always locked as soon as the last student's inside the school. Some towns don't have such extreme precautions; at least, that's what Laura's told me."

 

"Laura's one of your sisters?" Stiles asked, glancing over to the wall of photographs.

 

"Older sister; she's making her way through the forests to meet other wolves. When she finds her mate, she'll come back to continue with her Alpha training."

 

"What if she doesn't find a mate?"

 

"She'll come back alone; Laura's being trained to be the next Alpha, and the pull to protect her town will be too much for her to stay away for very long."

 

Stiles nodded briefly, looking to the pile of books. "I'm going to start reading, okay?"

 

"Okay. Would you like me to go?" Derek asked hesitantly.

 

"No, you can stay. But I kind of zone out when I read, so don't freak out if I don't reply or something," Stiles said, wanting to reassure him immediately.

 

Derek nodded, smiling that brilliant smile of his, and sat in his armchair. Stiles could tell that he'd resisted the urge to just sit beside him on the bed, and was somewhat grateful for the space. He pulled one of the books into his lap and opened it to start reading. After a few moments, he saw that Derek had started to read as well, and felt some tension leave his shoulders. Stiles relaxed and kept reading, zoning out within a few minutes.

 

...

 

Derek remembered how frightened Susan had been over Peter's affections when she'd been brought to the pack. He had showered her with attention to the point that Susan actually snapped at him to leave her alone, and left the room if Peter tried to come in. Peter had been miserable for weeks, and it wasn't until Talia had explained why he was acting the way he was that Susan eventually began to relax. She had read a few of the same books that Stiles was now reading, and after a few more weeks, started staying in the same room as Peter. They had talked together, first small snippets of conversation that were usually moderated by someone that Susan trusted, and then as time went on, Peter and Susan talked together by themselves and even walked along the forest's edge alone. They had married a year after she came to their pack.

 

Stiles' wary expressions reminded him of Susan, and he didn't want to make Peter's mistake by being too affectionate and end up having Stiles fear or hate him entirely. Even though he wanted nothing more than to curl up beside his mate, drowning himself in Stiles' scent, Derek made himself sit in the armchair instead. He watched as Stiles started reading, taking in the way his eyes lit with pure determination and focus, the way he bit his lip when he was reading an interesting passage, _the moles dotting his cheeks and neck, what it would be like to count each one with his own lips_. Derek flushed slightly and grabbed a book to distract himself. Stiles seemed to relax now that Derek wasn't staring, and they both lost themselves in their books. Derek realised that the afternoon light was fading an hour or two later, and moved to turn on his bedroom light. Stiles didn't seem to realise that anything had changed, and Derek took a moment to look over him again. He wanted to run his hands through Stiles' hair, he wanted to touch and kiss him, he wanted to howl for him.

 

The thought stopped him short because Derek's wolf hadn't wanted to howl for anyone before. Paige had been through a few years ago and Derek thought himself to be in love, but she'd decided to stay human and go to another pack. He'd wanted to go with her, but Paige had barely paid him any mind. He didn't blame her: learning the truth about the world was overwhelming enough, and the fact that she could travel to another town when she'd been restricted to Beacon Hills for most of her life was too good of an opportunity to miss. After she'd left, Derek had been sad, but not enough to howl. Now, Stiles was right here, sitting across from him, and Derek was still overcome with a need to howl for him.

 

As if he'd finally realised that Derek had been staring at him for a good five minutes, Stiles looked up from his book and yawned. It was the most obscene yawn Derek had ever seen, though he knew it wasn't intended that way. His mouth went wide, his long arms stretching to their full span, fists clenched tightly so his muscles and veins stood out clearly, his neck sinewy and strong as he tilted his head up to the ceiling. Then Stiles turned around and slid back, cracking his back as he leaned to the floor, half of his body off the bed entirely.

 

Derek blushed at the erotic image Stiles was presenting, so utterly glad that no one else could see this or hear his heartbeat going wild. Then Stiles slid off the bed completely, his body falling to the ground before he got up a moment later. Derek's heart stopped when he fell, but Stiles seemed fine, standing up without a care.

 

"Do you always do that?" Derek asked, trying not to growl at the thought of Stiles hurting himself carelessly.

 

"Sometimes. Easier than trying to get back on the bed," Stiles admitted, shrugging. "I've perfected the technique for falling out of bed without hurting myself. Took a few tries, but I have a pretty awesome scar on my elbow from one of the earlier attempts," he said with a broad grin. "Do you want to see?"

 

"Yes," Derek said.

 

Stiles didn't seem to notice just how rough Derek's voice had become and bent his elbow, holding it out for Derek to inspect. He moved closer, slowly for his own sake as much as Stiles', and looked at the jagged scar on his elbow.

 

"Does it hurt?" Derek asked curiously.

 

"Nah, it's fine. Happened when I was still a kid. I barely even notice the scar now. Though I fully admit that I bawled like a baby when it happened. I managed to slice it open on my rock collection," Stiles said with a slight grin. "Of course, after that, I wasn't allowed to keep my rock collection in my room anymore."

 

Derek was amazed that something that had happened so long ago could still be so visible. Humans were such fragile creatures.

 

"Don't you have any scars?" Stiles asked, glancing at Derek's arms.

 

"No; werewolves heal from most things almost immediately. I don't think I've had a scar for longer than a few seconds."

 

"That'd be useful for someone like me. I always told my dad that I was the biggest klutz in Beacon Hills," Stiles said, his expression going sombre.

 

Wincing, Derek remembered that Stiles was still in his grieving period for his father. He didn't know what to do or say in response to that. On the one hand, he wanted to respect Stiles' need for space and privacy, but on the other, he wanted nothing more than hold Stiles until he stopped looking so anguished. Giving in to the latter feeling, Derek moved closer and wrapped his arms around Stiles' body gently, giving him enough room to push him away if he wanted to. Stiles didn't push him away; instead, he kind of sagged into Derek's embrace and hugged him tightly, his hands gripping the back of Derek's shirt. He didn't say anything, he didn't have any words to make something like this better, so Derek just stayed silent and held Stiles for as long as he needed him to.

 

...

End of second chapter.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles felt too emotionally exhausted to go downstairs for dinner. He found himself reluctant to let go of Derek (werewolves were warm, which Stiles could fully appreciate at this time of year), but Stiles had just finished reading about how much werewolves needed to eat in order to keep a steady metabolism, and he didn't want Derek to miss out on food because of him.

"What do werewolves eat, anyway?" Stiles asked as he stepped out of Derek's embrace, straightening his shirt and trying not to blush.

"Lots of carbs and meat, usually. Tonight is lasagne. Broccoli's usually added as a side dish, but Mum turns a blind eye if anyone douses it in cheese sauce."

"That sounds so _normal_ ," Stiles said, shaking his head.

"What were you expecting?" Derek asked, sounding both amused and curious.

"I don't really know; raw meat or something, I suppose."

"That doesn't happen often, and if it does, then it's usually with new wolves when we're on a run in the forest," he admitted. "Mum usually keeps them in line, though Boyd managed to take down a rabbit on his first run anyway."

Stiles shook his head at the thought. He climbed back onto the bed, pulling the covers around his body firmly.

"I'll make sure to put some food away for you in case you get hungry later, all right?"

"Thanks, Derek," Stiles said, offering him a small smile.

Derek looked like he wanted to say or do something more, but just nodded in return and left, closing the door behind him gently. Stiles burrowed down into the blanket and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall sleep quickly.

He was still awake an hour later when Derek returned to his bedroom. Stiles was hungry now, but he didn't want to get up and bother anyone. He thought of pretending to be asleep but decided not to try - werewolf hearing being what it was, and all - and just sat up, pouting slightly.

"Couldn't get to sleep?" Derek asked, a slight look of sympathy (or perhaps amusement) on his face.

"No," Stiles mumbled, his stomach rumbling.

Derek tried not to grin too broadly at the noise and brought his hand out from behind his back, revealing a plate of food.

"I thought you might like to eat up here instead of going downstairs," Derek said with a shrug at Stiles' querying look, placing the plate on the bedside table for him.

"Thank you," Stiles said, a mere second away from jumping out of the bed to snatch the plate away because seriously, _home-made lasagne_.

Home-made lasagne was something he hadn't eaten in years; though he'd attempted the recipe numerous times himself, it never seemed to turn out right, and Stiles usually ended up making something simple like mac 'n cheese. Store-bought lasagne just didn't taste the same, so he never bothered with it.

Derek seemed amused at Stiles' response to the food, but didn't comment on it. He opened up his book that he had been reading earlier and started reading while Stiles devoured the plate in front of him. Stiles finished eating soon enough, and he slumped back on the bed, patting his stomach gently.

"Wow, that was the best lasagne I've eaten in _years_ , broccoli included. I'm going to bug your mum for the recipe, just so you know," he added, grinning.

"That's Dad's pride and joy, actually," Derek admitted, turning his attention away from the book and back to Stiles.

"Oh, I didn't get to meet him."

"He'll still be here tomorrow, you can meet him in the morning if you'd prefer to stay up here," Derek offered.

Stiles nodded, deciding that it would probably be rude to go downstairs now, especially after he had stayed upstairs for dinner.

"Erica, Boyd, and Isaac asked about you; they told me to say hi," Derek said, grinning. "Erica also said that she wants more hugs from you," he added, his grin fading.

"What's wrong with that?" Stiles asked, seeing his expression.

"Nothing, it's just the wolf... Well, me too, I guess... I want you all to myself. I know how that must sound, and I don't actually mean it in a derogatory way. I'm still getting used to the fact that I have a mate, let alone that you're actually here, and I know I'm being a bit possessive about it, but I really never thought it would happen," Derek said, the answer rushing out of him in a great rush, and he looked down, unable to meet Stiles' eyes.

"Yeah, you're right. That is a bit possessive," Stiles murmured, not sure if he wanted to send Derek away or if he wanted to leave himself.

Though he couldn't actually see Derek's expression, he seemed to hunch in on himself even further, and Stiles felt a bit bad. He could actually understand where Derek was coming from with all of this, but he was determined to not become someone's possession. They would work through this together, just like his mother and father had when they'd disagreed. Not that he and Derek were a married couple, of course.

"I've been asking a butt-load of questions about you; is there anything you want to ask me?" Stiles offered.

He didn't move any closer to Derek, because the whole possessive thing really was a huge turn off, but Stiles didn't move further away either. It wasn't something they really had control over, this mate thing, and Stiles had no idea how he'd respond if he'd been in Derek's place.

Derek stopped looking so miserable, and sat up properly again. It was obvious he was thinking about what to ask Stiles very seriously. He opened his mouth a few times as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it and closed his mouth again. Three minutes later, he still hadn't said a thing.

"I'm going to fall asleep if you don't ask something in the next five seconds, Derek," Stiles said, yawning widely.

"What actually is a Sheriff?" Derek blurted out, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going red. "I've never heard of one before."

Stiles actually had no idea what he thought that Derek would have asked him, but he was pretty sure that _that_ question wasn't even in his "top ten questions to ask Stiles".

"It's the worst job in the world," Stiles said, drawing his knees up to his chest and grinning, trying not to laugh when Derek frowned. "It's the title for the head of the police department in Beacon Hills, and after the Argents, is the highest level of law enforcement. My dad got elected in by the rest of the police officers," Stiles added proudly.

"We weren't the first town to bring in a Sheriff or police department, but we were in the top ten. The police handle local disputes, mostly; things that the Argents don't have time for, or think are beneath them, that sort of thing. The Sheriff organises the police officers so they're not all working in the same area of town, helps collect taxes, looks after the jail and any prisoners they may have - it was mostly Old Joe, the local drunk, because he spent a lot of time drinking alcohol and then peeing it back out while in public," Stiles muttered, shaking his head. "It doesn't sound like much, but Dad really thought it was another to help keep the town safe."

Derek nodded, then frowned slightly. "Then why's it the worst job in the world?"

"Because of the Argents, mostly. People in town hated Dad because they thought he was wasting their tax money on creating a superfluous job when the Argents would take care of them, just like they always had. They thought that he was trying to undermine the Argents and being ungrateful; there was a whole lot of things that people said. Not all of it was to his face, either. Some people were petty about it, and for a while, it was difficult to even get groceries. If it hadn't been for Dad saving Chris Argent's life a few years ago, we probably would have been run out of town. The townspeople are very loyal to the Argents; I reckon some think they're the saviours of humanity, being one of the first families and all."

Frowning, Derek took a moment to let all of that settle in, then looked up at Stiles again. "How did your father save Chris Argent's life?"

"No idea, honestly. He refused to tell me, just that it had happened and things would be all right now. He probably thought he was protecting me, for whatever reason," Stiles muttered with a small sigh.

"Do you have any friends in Beacon Hills?" Derek asked hesitantly.

"One, kind of. We were best friends when we were younger, but then he kind of fell in love with Allison Argent, and things went downhill from there. I don't blame him for it; Kate and Gerard are scary fuckers that like emotionally destroying people for fun."

Derek had seen Gerard once, sneaking out of the house with Peter to follow his mother to the meeting. The old man had looked terrifying enough, but his smell was diseased and _rotten_ , and Derek had fled, ignoring Peter's quiet call to lure him back. He hadn't stopped running until he'd reached the house, and decided that he never wanted to be an Alpha or deal with the Argents. _Ever_. So, yeah, he could definitely agree with Stiles' impression of them.

"What happened?" Derek asked.

Stiles ran a hand over his face, but still seemed inclined to answer. Before he could do so, however, there was a knock at Derek's door.

"We can pretend to be asleep, if you like? I can snore loud enough to drown out the sound of your heartbeat," he added with a slight grin.

Stiles held back a laugh at that, and shook his head. "It's fine. I'll answer you later, all right?"

"All right," Derek said as he made his way over to his door. "What do you want?" he asked, glaring.

"You're hogging Stiles for yourself; we just want to say hi!" Erica said with a pout, her eyes wide.

"I'm not hogging him; he's not a toy," Derek snarled.

Erica's pout gave way to a snarl of her own. She pushed inside of the room, Boyd and Isaac crowding in behind her before Derek could kick them out.

"Hey, Stiles. Missed you at dinner," Erica said, pouting again.

"Didn't feel like being around a lot of people," Stiles admitted, shrugging.

"Do you want us to go?" Isaac asked, looking between him and Erica with wide puppy eyes.

Stiles was a sucker for puppy eyes (Scott had used them on him mercilessly when they were younger to get sweets from him), and sighed, shaking his head. "No, Isaac, you don't have to go."

Erica made a sound of pleased triumph and sat on the bed, slinging her arm around Stiles' shoulders easily. Derek let out a small growl, eyes glowing gold, then stopped mid-growl, looking at Stiles guiltily.

"Sorry, I... I'll just take this down to the kitchen," Derek said carefully, making sure his claws were gone before he reached out for Stiles' plate and cutlery.

"It's all right, I can... do it," Stiles said, too late as Derek left the room quickly.

The door shut behind him, and Isaac whined slightly, looking torn between joining them on the bed and displeasing Derek.

"Wow, you're just like a puppy, aren't you?" Stiles asked, fascinated and teasing at the same time.

Isaac flushed, ducking his head briefly. "I'm still getting used to the pack side of things."

"Picked up being a wolf faster than I did though, or Boyd," Erica added proudly, grinning as Isaac got flustered at the praise, and rested her head on Stiles' shoulder.

"You're going to piss Derek off if you keep doing that, Erica," Boyd muttered.

"Doing what?" Stiles asked, looking between them the best he could while Erica was still somewhat draped over him.

"Yeah, I know. I'm scenting you; it's going to drive him nuts having my scent all over you," Erica said with a snicker.

"What's scenting do?"

"Basically shows that you're pack. Usually it's hugs, touches, that sort of thing, to help ease you into the pack. Since you're human, it also lets other wolves know that you're with us and not to harm you. But in this case, because Derek's been so careful with his scent, it's more to piss him off."

"Because he's my mate, right?" Stiles asked. "I'll smell like you instead of myself or him, and it'll make him jealous or something?"

"Yeah, or something. It's been a while since he's played rough with me, and I kinda miss it. Boyd doesn't look it, but he's a big ol' teddy bear, and a girl likes to wrestle now and again, y'know."

"No, actually, I don't," Stiles said, pulling away from her abruptly and trying to dampen down his own feeling of possessiveness. "Do you mean wrestle in the mud, or wrestle in between the sheets?"

"Oh, sweetie, I definitely mean the mud," Erica said, smirking a little, even as Stiles settled back down and felt a bit ashamed of himself. "Derek's a damn handsome wolf, but he sees me as nothing but another sister. 'sides, my Boyd wrestles in the sheets _just fine_ ," she said, blowing a kiss and winking at Boyd.

Boyd's cheeks were slightly red, but he didn't reply. Isaac made a small noise of despair, and practically flung himself onto the bed, cuddling up next to Stiles with a content sigh.

"Okay, that's not scenting, what the hell's that?" Stiles asked, perplexed.

"That would be you smelling like a mix of Alpha Talia, Derek, and yourself. I'm surprised Isaac lasted this long," Erica snickered.

"So... I smell good?"

Erica laughed, and even Boyd's mouth twitched a little. Stiles put an arm around Isaac, patting him on the back. Erica tilted her head to the side, looking past Boyd to the closed door. She grinned on seeing the shadow of two feet, and determined that Derek had returned and was probably psyching himself up to come back inside. Stiles followed her gaze, and sighed.

"Boyd, would you mind opening the door, please? I'm not going to be the middle of a wolfy sandwich while Derek stands outside torturing himself."

Boyd did grin then, and Stiles thought he might've made a friend, and opened the bedroom door. Derek looked a little embarrassed to be caught standing outside, but hurried inside and closed the door behind him again.

"You've gotta breathe, Der-bear. Breathing helps you stay alive, y'know," Erica said with a broad grin.

"Der-bear? I've _got_ to know where that came from," Stiles said, looking up at him brightly.

Derek winced and told himself that shoving Erica out of the third storey window was probably too strong of a response.

"Apparently, when he was little, he couldn't say _Derek_ properly, and he had this stuffed bear called Bear that he used to drag around everywhere. He combined the two together, and Der-bear was born," Erica said, cackling.

"I'm going to smother you in your sleep," Derek muttered at her.

"Aw, don't do that. I had a monkey plush. It was one of the ones that can stick it's hands together with velcro, y'know the ones? Yeah, mine was bright green, and I used to walk around with Cap'n Monkeypants hanging off me for days. Mum used to call me her little _drzewo_ 'cause she thought I looked like a tree."

"Cap'n Monkeypants?" Isaac asked, snickering into his hand.

"Oh, shut up. At least it's more inventive than Bear," Stiles said, grinning at Derek. Then his expression fell and he sighed heavily. "I miss my pillow."

"What?" Derek asked, confused at the non sequitur.

"I don't sleep very well without my pillow, and well, I thought I'd be dead, so I didn't exactly bring it with me. Not that I had much of a chance anyway," Stiles added with a mutter.

"We can go get your pillow," Isaac said brightly, sitting up and looking between Derek and Stiles eagerly.

"Uh, no we can't. No wolves allowed in the town, remember?" Erica pointed out, rolling her eyes.

"Mum would kill us if she found out," Derek added, shuddering slightly.

"Besides, without me there, you'd have no chance of getting in and out of my house without setting off the booby traps I set up," Stiles added, a little proudly.

"Hey, we're _wolves_. I think we'd be able to get past anything your puny human hands have set up," Erica said.

Stiles held out his hands and splayed his long fingers, frowning at them slightly. "Nope, no puny human hands here."

Derek absolutely did not choke in response to that. (He might've thought about those hands for a few seconds longer than appropriate while the others were in his room, but fuck, who could blame him with a sight like that?)

Erica hummed under her breath, taking one of Stiles' hands in her own and inspecting each finger carefully. Derek's mouth was dry as he watched carefully, and he knew that she was doing this to torture him, he fucking knew it.

"Erica," he snarled out a warning, but she just smiled up at him brightly, blinking her eyes and giving him an innocent expression.

"Yes, Der-bear?"

"I hate you," he growled.

She just laughed and hugged Stiles against her body because Derek wouldn't (or couldn't, it didn't really matter to her).

"Okay, are you two done with your pissing match?" Stiles asked, pulling away from Erica with a frown bordering on annoyed.

"Hardly, but I'll stop now," Erica added with a wink, settling down and putting her hands in her lap demurely.

"So... Are we going or not?" Isaac asked, looking between everyone expectantly.

"We can't go into town, Isaac. We'll be breaking the law, and the Argents would shoot us on sight," Derek said.

Stiles worried at his lip. Now that he was thinking of the things he'd left behind, he thought of more than just his pillow. There were photographs of his father and mother, back when they were still alive; his mother's recipe book and his father's favourite mug. It was all of the small things that probably would have seemed insignificant to others, but they all felt essential to Stiles, and there was nothing he wanted more than to have them all with him.

"I know their routes; the Argents and their lackeys. They don't know that I know, but I can access the frequency of their handheld radios, and I know how to find out where they'll be at any one time," Stiles blurted out, his heart overriding his head, even though there's still some part of him that knows this is one of the stupidest ideas - and potentially the most deadly - he's ever had, _ever_.

Erica caved at that, and all three looked up to Derek with big eyes. He sighed, wishing that he didn't have to make this decision.

"How did you access their radios? Everyone knows it's on a secure frequency," Boyd added, frowning.

"I listened to my Dad's conversations with them, and managed to see the numbers before they scrambled them at the end of the conversation," Stiles said, unable to stop his grin. "Do you have a portable radio?"

Isaac nodded and hurried out of the room before anyone could stop him. He returned a few minutes later, handing the radio over to Stiles. He turned the device on, fiddled with the knob and switches for a bit, and they all went quiet as they heard instructions on the radio.

" _Curfew initiated at 10pm. Patrol Red, Blue, and White to commence at 10:30pm_."

"I hate that patrol," Stiles groaned. "Their cars aren't as quiet as they think, and they always woke me up around midnight."

"It's almost 10pm now. It takes about half an hour to get to Beacon Hills; tack on an extra fifteen minutes because someone will have to carry Stiles, that'll give us about an hour to get in and leave with enough time to not be seen in the area," Erica said firmly.

"Will that be enough time, Stiles?" Isaac asked, looking to him.

"Should only take about ten, fifteen minutes to get past the booby traps if they haven't been set off already. Another fifteen or so to set them up again on the way back out. Half an hour with five of us should be enough. I'll tell you exactly what to get," Stiles said with a broad grin. "If it's still okay to go?" he added, looking to Derek.

He opened his bedroom window. "Quick, before I change my mind about this awful plan," Derek muttered.

Stiles smiled at him brightly and hugged Derek as Erica and Isaac made their way out of the window. He scrambled out after them, trying to keep his heart from pounding too wildly or loudly. Stiles almost yelped in surprise when Boyd ignored the roof entirely and simply dove out of the window, rolling and standing easily.

 _Holy fuck; I want to do that one day_ , Stiles thought to himself, his mouth hanging open.

Derek must have decided to ignore the roof as well, jumping into the branches of a tree a good two metres away, swinging for a second before dropping to the ground. Erica and Isaac jumped off the edge of the roof, and Stiles deliberated for a moment. _There was no way in hell that he could make that jump without breaking something!_

Derek waved to Stiles, indicating for him to jump, and held his arms open. _Oh, fuck, he_ ** _really_** _hadn't thought this plan through_. Stiles closed his eyes and threw himself off the roof, wind rushing past, and gasped as he was caught in firm arms. Derek put a hand on Stiles' mouth, muffling his gasp quickly, and set him on his feet, doing a once over to ensure that Stiles was all right. When he was satisfied that he was okay, they all ran towards the woods. When they were hidden in the trees, Erica, Isaac, and Derek started to change into their half-wolf forms. Boyd just nodded at Stiles and picked him up in his arms. Stiles held onto Boyd tightly, closing his eyes again as he started running, the other three wolves on either side and behind them. The radio was tucked into Stiles' pocket, and they listened to the periodic voices that filtered through, code words littered in their brief conversations.

They slowed down as they neared Beacon Hills, Stiles turning the radio down lower still, and quietly gave the directions to his house. The curfew was already in full effect, and the town's lights were dimmed in response to this, lighting up brightly if anyone passed. It was meant to help enforce the curfew, because no one wanted to be caught and reprimanded, and the Argents had promised that the sensors would also pick up any wolf movement as well. Stiles wondered if the Argents really knew just how fast the werewolves could run or they had just guessed, because though they passed at least five sensored lights, not one lit up. He had forgotten about them entirely, actually, and was especially glad now that they didn't work.

Stiles opened his eyes when Boyd came to a stop, and though his legs were a bit wobbly when he was on his feet again, Stiles made himself hurry up to the porch, reaching up to the get the spare key from the top of the door. It used to be hidden in the fake pot plant in the garden, but he had moved it in case Scott remembered and told the Argents. Before Stiles could open the door however, Derek put a hand on his arm, frowning and sniffing.

"I can smell blood," he whispered, the other three nodding in agreement behind him.

"Good, that means at least one trap was set off. If you find someone's limb, let me know," Stiles added, his mouth twisting into a fierce smirk.

"Exactly what kind of traps did you set, Stiles?" Isaac asked, suddenly nervous.

"The kind to cause the most damage," he said, and there was something foreign in his tone that sent shivers up the others' spines.

Stiles opened the door and stepped inside, indicating for the four wolves to follow him.

...

End of third chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles opened the door and stepped inside, indicating for the four wolves to follow him.

"I know what happens after people are selected for sacrifice. The townspeople don't know who's been taken until a week later when the sacrifice has been released and acknowledged publicly. But in that time, the Argents loot the person's house for anything of value. I hid a lot of things where they'd never find them, and then set traps for everything else. I had a whole day to prepare, and it's not like I needed to pack clothes, considering I thought I was going to die," Stiles said, shrugging.

Boyd shut the door behind them, and they stood together crowded in the small entrance.

"Just stay here; I'll go check the traps," Stiles instructed. "Don't touch anything," he added over his shoulder.

Derek nodded briefly. He was a little overwhelmed at being in a human's house, more so that it was _Stiles'_ house. He could see pictures on the walls: Stiles as a young child grinning with a front tooth missing; Stiles and two others he presumed to be his parents in front of a Christmas tree, presents splayed out beneath the bristles; Stiles and another boy with floppy hair, holding up a string of fish and holding their fishing rods proudly.

Erica snickered softly behind him, indicating to a photo of Stiles dressed in a Batman outfit, hands on his hips and the mask doing nothing to hide the look of pure joy on his face.

Derek breathed in deeply, trying to capture the scent of Stiles' home, of his childhood, of his parents and his life. There was an overwhelming smell of blood - more than one person's, in fact - and Derek breathed out slowly, trying to calm his wolf at the unexpected response. There was no feelings of disgust or squeamishness, instead, the wolf revelled in the fact that his mate could do this much damage in one day, that his mate would be able to protect them and the pack in a way others couldn't. Derek wanted to back Stiles against the closest hard surface and show his appreciation for this unique talent in a very physical way. Boyd nudged Derek sharply when Stiles returned, sucking the pad of his thumb with a frown.

"Are you all right?" Derek asked immediately, moving towards him, then stopping because he had no idea if the entrance was booby trapped as well.

"Nicked it on one of the knives in the trap I'd set up in the kitchen. It's where most of the blood is. What's the time?" Stiles asked, directing his question to Erica.

"10:40pm. Where do you want me to start, Batman?" Erica asked, grinning.

"Oh, shut up; that was the best birthday present ever," Stiles muttered, barely glancing over at the photo on the wall. "You can start in the lounge room. There's a loose board under the armchair in the corner; I put the most important photos in there.

"Isaac, you can help Boyd grab some clothes for me. Not so many to make it obvious. I've got a bunch of dirty clothes in my corner hamper that'll do. My room's the second on the left," Stiles added.

Isaac and Boyd nodded and headed upstairs, Erica branching off to the lounge room.

"Where do you want me?" Derek asked.

"With me. We've got the kitchen for the most important things of all," Stiles said, leading him through the house towards the kitchen.

Derek tried not to linger, but now that he could get past the smell of the blood (at least four people had bled in this house in the last week alone, and Stiles wasn't one of them), he was starting to smell the other scents underlying it. Smells of home, of family, of arguments and disappointment, love and pride, happiness and distraught. His hand twitched by his side, and Derek desperately wanted to pull Stiles in for a hug, to hug him for as long as he needed to make the bad smells go away.

"Step over this; I won't be able to set it up again, so I didn't want to undo it," Stiles said over his shoulder, taking an exaggerated step over what looked to be _floss_.

"What _are_ the most important things?" Derek asked curiously, stepping over the tripwire, and glancing to the side to see the lighter and can of deodorant spray that would have been triggered. (His wolf howled in delight at that, and Derek shuddered, stamping down his desire before Stiles realised.)

"My mother's recipes and cookbooks. I won't be able to take them all; Scott knows how much they mean to me, and they'd be one of the first things I'd take if I had a chance to come back. He'd definitely notice their absence, and I have to assume that he tells the Argents' everything now," he added with a slight shrug, but Derek could smell the hurt and disappointment that rolled off him. "But there are still a few recipes that I can take out without making it too obvious. I'll take the ones I don't remember up here," Stiles added, tapping his temple with a finger and slight grin.

Derek nodded in response, then stopped short on seeing the kitchen. The _blood-soaked kitchen_ , in fact.

"Five," he breathed, mouth hanging open. (His wolf was going wild, and he dug his claws into his palms to stop from transforming right there and then to howl in delight.)

"What?" Stiles asked, frowning.

"At least five people were hurt in here. I can smell their blood. What the hell did you set up in here, Stiles?" Derek asked, incredulous.

Stiles seemed delighted at Derek's answer, and grinned broadly, thumbing over his shoulder to the microwave and oven. Now that he wasn't focusing on the blood, he could see the blackened edges around both appliances and the fact that the oven no longer had a door.

"I made it look like I'd hidden stuff in the microwave, but when the microwave door button was pressed, an incendiary device in the oven kind of exploded. I put knives and forks in it to help cause as much damage as possible. If I'd had the right mix of chemicals, I would've replaced the contents of the fire extinguisher with an accelerant instead of just throwing it out so they couldn't use it. Looks like they had Scott with them, 'cause he was the only one who would've known that the fire blanket was kept in the bottom drawer," Stiles added, toeing the broken drawer with a slight frown.

Derek was silent for a moment as he processed all of the information properly. "You mean you turned your kitchen into a bomb?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm kind of surprised the cookbooks are still here, but I _did_ hide them in the fridge. I didn't want them to get their hands on my mum's recipes," Stiles murmured. "They would've butchered them completely."

He moved across the kitchen, opening the fridge door, and wincing at the strong smell of rotten mushrooms. Derek almost gagged, covering his mouth and nose, his eyes watering. Stiles took out a handful of books and put them on the kitchen counter carefully.

"Sorry about the smell. Scott hates mushrooms, so I knew that he wouldn't be able to stand in here for long with that. Mind you, I'm not sure I can either," Stiles added with a wince.

"What's that _smell?_ " Erica hissed from further down the corridor.

"Mouldy mushrooms," Derek replied. "Be careful of the tripwire, it's still set up," he added quickly.

"Shit; thanks." Erica arrived in the doorway a moment later, a patterned box tucked under her arm. "Got 'em, Batman."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope," she replied cheerfully. "Now, what are we doing in here?"

"Taking my mum's recipes. Well, some of them, at least," Stiles added, flicking through the pages, stopping here and there to trace a few letters or words reverently.

"Oh, sweetie. C'mere," Erica murmured, hugging him to her firmly. "Derek, why don't you go help Isaac and Boyd? They seem to be taking a while for clothes."

Derek left, trying to hold back a whine because Erica could hug Stiles without it being weird or suffocating, but he couldn't let himself do that, because he didn't want to be that kind of mate. Where was the line between offering comfort and being overwhelming? If they survived tonight, Derek promised himself to get that clarified sooner rather than later. He made sure to step over the tripwire and then headed up to Stiles' bedroom.

He stopped in the doorway and breathed in deeply. The room smelled purely of Stiles (well, it did when he blocked out Isaac and Boyd's scents; he noticed that they were arguing over an ugly blue and orange striped shirt), and the smell helped calm Derek for a moment. Stiles had spent a lot of time in this room, it seemed.

"What are you two wasting time arguing about?" Derek hissed at Isaac and Boyd.

"Boyd wants to take this _thing_ with us. I want to burn it as a sacrifice to appease whatever fashion god it offends," Isaac added.

"Who cares about fashion? Stiles obviously loves it; his scent's all over it," Boyd pointed out.

"Just get onto the next thing. We've got to hurry up, it's almost quarter past eleven," Derek said, going over to the small wardrobe to grab things for Stiles himself while Isaac and Boyd turned back to the laundry hamper.

When they had a pillowcase of clothes each, Isaac and Boyd made it look like they hadn't taken anything and then headed down to the kitchen, Derek telling them to watch out for the tripwire. When he had a case for himself, Derek headed to follow them out. He paused at the door, then turned, grabbing the awful blue and orange shirt and stuffed it in his pillowcase along with the other clothes.

In his rush to stop Isaac and Boyd's loitering, and his own focus on the wardrobe, Derek hadn't looked at the room itself. He paused, trying to take it all in, to see what Stiles had surrounded himself with. He had his own TV tucked away in the corner, a cheap DVD player sitting precariously on top of it, an obviously well-used computer if the strong smell was anything to go by (Derek tried not to focus on the box of tissues by the screen, or the thought of Stiles jerking off in this very room), and his crumpled bedsheets and blue quilt on the bed. Then, on the wall next to Stiles' computer, Derek could see strings poking out from behind the door. He stepped forward, closing the door gently, his heart pounding for whatever ridiculous reason. Red strings filled the wall, but it was the articles and propaganda that caught Derek's attention. Strings went between articles, hand-written notes, and what must have been the Argents' propaganda.

_Ensuring your safety! Curfew at 10pm for all citizens. K. Argent  
_ _Sensor lights will keep the monsters at bay! G. Argent  
_ _If you're not afraid of the wolves in the forest, you're not sane! K. Argent  
_ _Recruits for the Argent Artillery required. Contact G. Argent for more information_.

Some of the propaganda were just posters, but they depicted horrifying and monstrous wolves, some even with blood-coated muzzles, claws that were still embedded in their prey, and this was something he'd never seen or been faced with before. _Did all humans truly think of them like this?_ he wondered, feeling sickened at the thought.

"Just a few more recipes and we can go," Stiles murmured, glancing over to the radio to make sure they were still all right. "Where's Derek?" he added, realising that he hadn't returned to the kitchen yet.

"Still in your room. Do you want me to go get him?" Isaac offered.

"No, it's all right, I'll go. Get the recipe for the chocolate cake. It's tucked in the back," Stiles added, leaving the kitchen and going up to his room. "Derek? Are you all right?" he asked quietly, seeing him standing there, a pillowcase held limply in his hand as he stared at a wall.

_Why was he just staring at a wall? Oh, fucking hell_ , Stiles thought viciously, remembering what exactly was on the wall.

"I... I don't think Mum knows about this," Derek said, nodding to the posters. "Can we take some to show her?"

"Sure. I've got spares in my drawer. I use them as a dartboard backing because I researched all of that stuff once, and realised that the Argents are spouting utter bullshit. Wolves are meant to be social creatures and only attack when provoked, or if they're hungry. And with the sacrifices, we supposedly keep the wolves complacent with each year, they shouldn't be hungry. Which means we'd have to provoke them in some way if they ever actually attacked someone. Of course, now that I know you're the wolves, it just shows that the bullshit is even deeper than I thought it was, and ... please, just tell me to shut up," Stiles breathed, wincing.

"Why? Everything you've said is correct, according to what I know, at least. I knew there was propaganda to keep humans out of the woods, but I didn't know it was this bad," Derek admitted, nodding to the wall. "What's with the string?"

"Uh, a way to help me connect things between people, events, that sort of thing. I'm big on visual learning," Stiles said, finally finding the last of the posters and folding them, handing the bundle to Derek.

"Guys, we've got to go," Erica called softly from downstairs.

"Time's up," Derek said.

Stiles nodded, went over to his bed and grabbed his pillow. He rearranged the other three pillows on his bed to make it look like it hadn't been removed at all, then followed Derek out of his room.

"You sure you don't want anything from the walls?" Isaac asked, nodding to the framed photos.

"No; they'll be noticed," Stiles said firmly.

He handed his pillow to Derek, hurrying through the house to reset his traps, Erica keeping a firm eye on her watch as Isaac listened to the radio carefully. Derek gave in to the temptation to bury his head in Stiles' pillow, and while he thought he'd done so discreetly, Boyd just looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, done. What's the time?" Stiles asked, taking his pillow back from Derek.

"Almost 11:40pm. Let's get out of here," Erica murmured.

Stiles tied off the three pillow cases that were filled with his clothes, recipes, and photo box, handing one each to Derek, Erica, and Isaac. They went outside quietly, the entire town silent and seeming to hold its breath. The silence was unnerving, and Stiles bit his lip to keep from talking to fill the void.

"Remember your way back?" Stiles asked as softly as possible, all four wolves nodding.

Boyd picked Stiles up, cradling him in his arms carefully, the other three shifting, and then they started running. Stiles felt like he held his breath for the entire run through Beacon Hills, and didn't dare take in oxygen until they were in the forest again. Even then, they didn't slow down, running faster still until the world itself became a blur.

They all stopped at the edge of the forest when the Hale house came into view, and Stiles opened his eyes again, wondering why they'd stopped. Boyd set him down on his feet again, and Stiles felt his heart speed up when he realised why they weren't going towards the house. In the light spilling out from the house, Stiles could clearly see the silhouette of Talia, who was standing on the porch and obviously waiting for them.

"Come inside, all of you," Talia said, her voice carrying across to them easily.

They were all silent as they made their way down the slight incline towards the house. One by one, they passed Talia's stiff posture and disapproving expression and went inside. The others seemed to know where to go, so Stiles followed them into the lounge room demurely. He felt like someone had sucker punched him in the stomach and then kicked him for good measure. And since that _had_ happened to him before, Stiles was a pretty good judge of what that felt like. Still, he wasn't sure that he could bring himself to regret anything they'd done tonight.

...

End of fourth chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Talia walked into the lounge room after them, shutting the door behind her, and waited for an explanation. She didn't ask for one, because she knew her son, she knew her pack, and she knew that they would provide all the answers without her needing to utter a single word.

Stiles stepped forward before the others could say a thing. "This is all my fault, Mrs. Hale. I convinced the others to go into town with me because I wanted to get photos of my parents, my mother's recipes, and my pillow. I know it was a risk, but we took all of the necessary precautions, and I had the radio with the Argents' secure frequency, so we'd know if they found out... They said it was a risk, but I didn't listen. If they hadn't gone with me, I would have gone by myself," he added firmly.

Talia nodded once, then looked to the others for their explanations.

"I was one that suggested it in the first place, Alpha Talia," Isaac said, stepping forward next to Stiles. "Stiles said he needed his pillow to sleep and I didn't want him to be uncomfortable here, so I said we could go get it. I'm sorry, Alpha Talia," he added, hanging his head.

"I tipped the balance to convince Boyd and Derek to come with us," Erica admitted. "I'm sorry, Alpha Talia."

Talia didn't respond to any apology, simply waited, and raised an eyebrow slightly at Boyd and Derek.

"I didn't want to go, but I wasn't going to let them go alone," Boyd said. "I'm sorry, Alpha Talia."

"I should have known better and not let the others convince me. I knew it was a bad idea, and what the risk was; I'm sorry, mu- Alpha Talia," Derek said.

Talia waited a moment longer, trying to calm her emotions so she wouldn't say something that she would later regret. She had been worried when Peter casually announced that their newest sacrifice had thrown himself off the roof fifteen minutes prior, and on discovering that her son, her betas, and a human were no longer in the house, her worry had churned in her stomach until she felt sick. She'd reached out her Alpha senses as far as they could go, and found that they were in Beacon Hills, the one place that was forbidden to all of them, Derek as a wolf, and the others as sacrifices. Sacrifices couldn't dare be seen after they had been selected as a sacrifice, and _four_ of them had gone into Beacon Hills.

Her worry had given way to anger at their blatant stupidity, their carelessness, and then churned back to worry all over again. Right now, she was more relieved that they were safe and hadn't been sliced in half for transgressing on their treaty and rules, but Talia could still feel the worry and anger bubbling under the surface. Her wolf was torn between wanting to cuff her pups for being so careless and crowding them in close to hug and give thanks that they were still alive. She breathed in deeply, grounding herself in her anchor of her pack and family, and then exhaled as she felt herself and her wolf calm once more.

"Look at me, Isaac," Talia said, moving to stand before him.

He sniffled a bit, eyes watery, but he did as she said. They all seemed surprised when Talia pulled Isaac in for a fierce hug, and he promptly burst into tears, clinging to her shirt.

"You are loved, Isaac. Nothing you can say or do will ever change that, do you understand me?" she asked, stroking his curls and back gently. "However, I am upset that you went into town, especially without even leaving a note to let me know where you were. I hope you understand just how worried I was about you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Isaac sobbed, fingers clenched.

"All of you are grounded with no allowance for the next month," Talia added, addressing her betas and son. "Isaac, you will do all of the wood chopping for the next two months without complaint, agreed?"

"Y-yes, Alpha Talia," he hiccuped.

"Good. Now go upstairs, wash your face, and go to bed," Talia said warmly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Isaac sniffled again, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve, and then left the lounge room quickly, closing the door behind him.

Erica flinched a bit when Talia stood in front of her and looked down demurely, blonde curls hiding her face.

"Look at me, Erica," Talia murmured.

Erica did as instructed warily, not expecting or wanting to be comforted as Isaac had, and they both knew that. Talia took Erica's hand in her own instead and her offered a warm smile.

"You are such a strong young woman, Erica, but you need to learn that your strength is not limited to your physical ability alone. You need to be even stronger in your heart and your head, and then your actions will follow. You can be a leader, one that is listened to, but you need to listen to yourself first. You are the longest sacrifice currently in this house, and you are aware of the consequences that could have arisen from tonight's actions. You should have known better than to encourage this, and you should have known in your own heart that this was the wrong way to go about it," Talia added.

Erica clenched her jaw, trying to hold back her tears, and struggling to swallow the lump in her throat. Now that her beta wasn't so wary, Talia moved in to hug Erica gently, stroking her hair as Erica quietly cried in the privacy of their embrace.

"You will set and clear the table for every meal for the next two months without complaint, agreed?"

Erica nodded against the curve of Talia's neck. "Yes, Alpha Talia."

"Good. Now go upstairs, wash your face, and go to bed," Talia said warmly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Erica nodded, didn't dare try to meet the others' eyes as she passed them, and left the lounge room, wiping at her eyes.

Talia stood in front of Boyd and looked at him for a long moment. He looked back at her without requiring the command, and she cupped his face in one hand gently.

"Vernon, I understand why you chose to remain silent tonight. However, we both know that this was wrong, and had the ability to go so very wrong. If you had said something, it might have been avoided entirely. I sincerely wish that you would try to speak when you know in your heart that something is wrong, even if your opinion goes against others that you respect or love. Promise me that next time you will say something if you know that it is not the right thing to do?" Talia asked.

"I promise, Alpha Talia," Boyd said softly, his voice cracking.

"Thank you, Vernon. You are to read to Thomas and Robert every night for the next two months without complaint, agreed?"

"Yes, Alpha Talia."

"Good. Go upstairs, clean up, and go to bed," Talia said, Boyd bending down slightly so she could kiss his forehead as she had the others.

Boyd gave her a brief nod and left the lounge room quietly.

Stiles was a mess; he was nervous, felt like shit because this felt so much worse than what he'd anticipated, and on top of it all, his nerves were making him jittery. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time Talia stood in front of Derek.

"Derek, look at me," Talia instructed.

He let out a small contrite whine, eyes flashing, but he did as she said.

"You admitted that you should have known better, Derek, and you are right, you should have. However, you - like Vernon - already did know better than to go into town. You know our laws, our treaties, and our reasons, more so than any of the others. It was reckless of you to do this, careless to put yourselves - and our entire kind - at risk, and you should have stood your ground to follow through on what you knew to be the right action. Just because you are not training to be the next Alpha, it does not mean that you are not required to show just as much patience, wisdom, and understanding as one. You are allowed to make mistakes, Derek, but while making the decisions that may or may not lead to those mistakes, you must always keep in mind the consequences for your actions. Not just for yourself or those that are around you, but everyone that could be affected by something like this, do you understand?"

Stiles frowned slightly, slowly stopping his bouncing. From Talia's words, this seemed to be bigger than them simply breaking the law.

"Yes, I understand," Derek said quietly.

Talia pulled Derek in close for a hug, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, thankful that he was alive all over again.

"You are to cook all evening meals every night for the next two months without complaint, agreed?"

" _Mum_ ," Derek whined, then reddened when she raised an eyebrow at him sternly. "Agreed, Alpha Talia."

"Good. Now go upstairs, get ready for bed, and we'll talk when I've finished with Stiles, all right?"

"Yes, Mum," Derek said.

He really had no idea how his mother did that thing where she seemed to know what he needed without him voicing it, but Derek was kind of glad that she did. He gave Stiles' hand a brief squeeze before leaving the lounge room.

"Zbigniew Stilinski," Talia said.

Stiles eyes widened slightly, Talia getting his attention immediately because 1) she knew his first name, and 2) she knew how to _pronounce_ his first name.

"I know that you must miss your parents a lot, especially so soon after the loss of your father. However, I do not think that you truly understand the risk you put my pack in tonight. It was not simply a matter of breaking the law, but the treaty too. We are on shaky ground with some of the humans already, and to have a contingency of wolves in a human town would have pushed those humans towards war. They would not have seen reason, they would not have taken the time to understand that this was done for a homesick young man, they would have only recognised the law that was willingly broken by members of my pack," Talia said firmly. "My pack is my family, more than blood because they have _chosen_ to be part of it, and while I understand the heartbreak of losing parents, family, and pack, I cannot allow you to endanger their lives like this again."

_Talia was sending him away_ , Stiles realised. He felt cold all of a sudden, and he looked down, biting his cheek firmly so he wouldn't cry.

"Look at me, Zbigniew," Talia said, tilting his chin gently until he was looking at her again. "I am not sending you away. I would not do that to you; you will always have a choice while you are living under my roof, do you understand?"

"Yes, Alpha Talia," he said softly.

"Good. Now, your punishment, should you choose to accept it," she added, realising that he needed the clarification, "Is to remain within this house and the property for the next two months. You will not be allowed within the forests, or to accompany the others outside of the fence line in this time. Do you agree to this?"

Stiles took a moment to think, slowly coming to the realisation that Talia truly meant it. He briefly wondered what his alternative punishment would be if he didn't agree.

"I agree, Alpha Talia."

"Good. Thank you, Zbigniew. You must understand how it feels to sit home and not know if your family will return home safely," she added.

Stiles nodded briefly. "Yes, I do. I also understand how it feels to sit at home and know that they will never come home again," he said, the lump in his throat returning and his voice cracking.

Talia pulled him in for a hug without a word, and just like Isaac, Stiles spent a few minutes sobbing in her arms. When he felt exhausted enough (the pain unknowingly leeched out of him by Talia; it wasn't enough to heal him, and it never would be, but it would be enough to help him sleep easier tonight), Stiles pulled away from Talia, wiping his eyes on his sleeve quickly.

"Go upstairs, clean yourself up, and go to bed, my dear boy. I will try to ensure that Derek is back before you fall asleep; you will most likely need each other's presence to remain calm tonight," she added warmly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

It was ridiculous, Stiles knew it was, but that simple kiss seemed to make everything better, and he nodded briefly.

He opened the door to see Derek waiting outside, cleaned and dressed in his pyjamas, with the propaganda posters clenched in his fist. Derek looked like he wanted to hug Stiles (or possibly run away with him, Stiles wasn't quite sure), but he refrained. He was so obviously trying to give Stiles space, even if it made him miserable in the process. Stiles knew that he didn't owe Derek anything for being a decent person - mate or not - but he had already seen how affectionate bitten wolves were. The kind of physicality that Talia and Derek seemed to exude obviously came from them being a close pack as well as a close family, and that affection extended on to the others in the pack as well. Derek was probably just trying to be affectionate in the only way he knew how.

Stiles realised all of this in the space of a few seconds, and before Derek could move into the lounge room where his mother waited, Stiles took his hand and squeezed it gently in a show of support, as Derek had done to him earlier. Derek seemed pleasantly surprised by Stiles' action, and his smile brightened up his entire face.

"Thank you," Derek said softly.

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything, and headed upstairs to clean himself up as Talia had instructed. On reaching the landing, Stiles saw three bedroom doors shut firmly, and realised that the other three were already in bed. He washed his tear sticky face, brushed his teeth, and changed into the old shirt and pants that Derek had loaned him. He'd left his clothes and belongings in the pillowcases downstairs, but Stiles didn't dare interrupt Derek and his mother. He just hoped that Derek would bring them up on his way back.

Stiles was just starting to doze off when Derek finally returned, closing the door behind him. He no longer had the posters, but he was carrying Stiles' pillowcases, and Stiles sat up on seeing them.

"I hope you don't mind, but Mum wanted to see what was so important that we risk our lives for," Derek murmured softly.

"No, that's only fair; even though your mum's probably just seen my underwear," Stiles joked with a slight wince.

Derek tried not to laugh too loudly at that. "She saw the other things more than your clothes or underwear, Stiles."

"Oh, that's good then," Stiles said. He sighed, running a hand through his short hair. "I'm sorry I put all of you at that kind of risk. I was being selfish, and I didn't think of anyone other than myself," he admitted, playing with the sleeve cuff on his borrowed shirt.

"It can be a difficult transition, Stiles, and we were all to blame, not just you. Next time this sort of thing comes up, we'll think about our actions and consequences more than we did tonight, and hopefully, come up with a different course of action."

"Hmm, hopefully... Your mum said something about us needing each other to stay calm tonight; do you know what she meant by that?"

"That was probably more for my benefit than yours, honestly. I don't... I'm not good with criticism, and I have a tendency to retreat into monosyllables if I get reprimanded," Derek admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, that's the longest set of monosyllables I've heard in a long time," Stiles said, grinning.

"I got 60 out of 100 on a test once; I beat myself up about it and didn't talk to anyone for three straight days," Derek replied, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Huh... So, how do I help you stay calm then?"

Derek shrugged a little. "Just by being here, I guess."

"Does proximity matter?" Stiles asked curiously.

"I haven't read anything about that in the books; but Mum always says that having a mate isn't an exact science, and the books shouldn't be taken at face value," he added, shrugging again.

Stiles nodded, obviously thinking about something, but not willing to voice it just yet. Derek held out his pillow for him and Stiles thanked him in a rush of air, clutching his pillow to his chest as if his life depended on it. While Stiles was getting reacquainted, Derek moved about to set up his armchair for the night. It wasn't the most comfortable way to sleep, but any cricks worked their way out of his body easily enough, and he'd prefer this to being exiled from his room and Stiles' presence completely.

If his mother had punished him with no Stiles for two months, Derek knew that he wouldn't have agreed, no matter what the alternative punishment was. Hell, he'd even change Tommy and Robbie's nappies for two months straight rather than face that right now, not when he and Stiles were still getting to know each other and adjust to the other's presence in their life.

"Good night, Derek. Thank you," Stiles added warmly, settling down on his pillow with a sigh of content.

"You're welcome, Stiles. Good night."

Derek settled on the armchair, moving the recliner back so it stretched out a bit further and allowed him more room. Stiles tossed and turned for a while, yawning widely but not quite falling asleep.

"Hey, Derek?"

"Mmm?"

"Can you move closer to the bed?" Stiles asked hesitantly.

"Okay."

Derek made sure he didn't move too fast, standing and pushing the recliner a little closer to the bed.

"Better?" he asked.

Stiles shook his head, and if there was enough light, Derek was sure that he would be able to see him blushing. Stiles' heart was racing, though he didn't portray any nervousness. Derek _hoped_ that was a good thing.

"Closer, like right here," Stiles said, indicating to the spot right next to him.

Derek was glad Stiles couldn't hear his heartbeat pounding the way it was; it was almost as fast as Stiles'. _But maybe it was loud enough that Stiles actually could hear it; it definitely felt like that!_

The armchair was pushed up right next to the bed, allowing Derek enough room to stretch it out to a recliner without knocking anything, and Stiles nodded firmly.

"Better."

Derek stretched out on the recliner again, looking at Stiles as he tossed and turned again.

"Derek? Are you still awake?"

"Mm-hmm," he murmured.

"Will you hold my hand? Please?" Stiles added softly.

Derek's heart was thumping so loudly that he was positive that Stiles could hear it now. He moved his right hand (that had been resting under his head) until it was beside Stiles' left shoulder. Stiles seemed to understand that he was being offered a choice, a chance to back out, but didn't hesitate when he moved his right hand to take Derek's, entwining their fingers together. Derek hid a smile against his pillow. Stiles yawned widely and fell asleep easily.

...

End of fifth chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the low light that filtered in through the curtains. He saw Derek sleeping in front of him, still on the armchair, and both of them still holding hands. It was a nice feeling, actually, and Stiles stroked Derek's hand with his thumb lightly. The action woke Derek up and he winced as Derek yawned and opened his eyes.

"Hey, sorry for waking you," Stiles whispered.

Derek didn't seem annoyed, his thumb brushing against Stiles' hand gently. "Hey."

"I need to pee," Stiles said, a little urgently.

Derek nodded and let go of Stiles' hand, sitting up. "I've got an ensuite. It's small, but it's better than having to use the main bathroom all the time," he said, nodding over to a door that Stiles hadn't noticed before.

He scrambled off the bed and to the door, thanking Derek over his shoulder before almost slamming the door behind him. Stiles peed like he hadn't peed in three straight days, and it was such a relief that he didn't even care that Derek could probably hear him peeing.

The ensuite was small, but it had a shower cubicle as well as a toilet, and holy fuck, Stiles wanted a shower so badly all of a sudden. His last shower had been when the Argents prepared him as a sacrifice, and Stiles had discovered just how awkward and difficult showering was while people were watching him.

"Derek? I'm going to have a shower, okay?" he called.

"Okay. There's spare towels under the sink," Derek called back.

Stiles flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and stripped out of his borrowed clothes. Maybe he'd be able to find something in his pillowcases that smelled clean enough to wear today. Although, in a house of werewolves with heightened senses, maybe he'd have to ask Derek if it smelled all right first.

Stiles took his time showering, scrubbing off the dirty sheen of oil and whatever else had been brushed on his body with a washer. He noticed that neither Derek's soap nor shampoo had a fragrance, but Stiles still felt clean afterwards. He was tempted to jerk off while the sound of running water would probably conceal whatever he'd been doing, but decided not to. He hadn't woken up with an erection, and it felt like too much effort to get hard and jerk off just for the sake of it. Sticking his head under the spray, Stiles made sure that all of the shampoo had washed out of his hair, then he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.

He was dry a few minutes later, wiping the condensation off the mirror to check his reflection. So much had happened, his life had been turned upside down and inside out, but he didn't look any different. He looked a little more tired, sure, but other than that, there was no outward appearance of anything having changed. Stiles figured it was a simple constant in his life, and decided that it was a good thing. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went back into the bedroom to see a pile of his clothes folded neatly on the end of the bed, a note sitting on top of them.

_Thought you might like to wear something familiar again. These are cleaner than the rest of your clothes; I've taken everything else to be washed. I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast. - D_

Stiles was grateful that Derek had thought of him, and rummaged through the pile to see what had been brought. He found a few of his favourite shirts, but his absolute favourite - a blue and orange striped one - was nowhere to be seen. _Maybe it needed to be washed_ , he thought hopefully. Still, he had enough clothes to wear something now, and Stiles pulled on a pair of briefs, jeans, and his blue target shirt before he headed downstairs barefoot.

Isaac ran out of the dining room, closing the door behind him and almost barrelling into Stiles before stopping short and pulling him into a fierce hug. "Hi Stiles!"

"Whoa, hi. Uh, what's going on?" Stiles asked, frowning.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Just wanted to say hi. That's one of your shirts, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Isaac, why did you run out of the dining room like you were being chased?" Stiles asked again, voice firmer and refusing to take any more bullshit answers.

"Erica's setting the table," Isaac admitted.

"And?"

"She hates setting the table 'cause it never looks perfect enough, and she usually ends up throwing something sharp," Isaac said. "Got stabbed by a spoon last time."

"A _spoon_ , seriously?" Stiles asked, shaking his head.

He headed down to the dining room, knocking on the door and barely waiting before going inside.

"Puny human here, so no throwing cutlery at me, okay?" Stiles said, hands up as he moved towards Erica slowly, trying not to fixate on her golden yellow eyes and the snarls she was emitting through a fanged mouth. "What's wrong with the table setting?"

"Can't fit everyone in properly," she said with some difficultly through her fangs.

"Well, I'm pretty sure no one's going to be eating salad for breakfast. Would it help if we took the salad forks away?"

"But then it's not set properly!"

"Sure it is. It's set properly for the proper meal. Now, come on. Put the box of knives down, and help me take these off the table, okay?"

Erica didn't look very appeased, and let out a small whine when Stiles started collecting the salad forks, but she soon relented and started to help as well.

"Now, I'm all for cake for breakfast, but dessert's probably not going to be eaten either, so I think we can take away the dessert spoons too. It's okay, Erica, I promise it'll be okay," Stiles assured her when she made another whining noise, her eyes flicking between Stiles and the table setting worryingly.

Again, he started to take away the dessert spoons and Erica reluctantly helped.

"There you go. We've got enough knives, forks, and spoons for everyone. I'm just glad you haven't started on the glasses yet; you wouldn't have put wine glasses out, would you?" Stiles asked curiously.

Erica glowered and didn't reply. Stiles grinned and hugged her firmly. There was a tentative knock at the door, and Isaac poked his head in warily. He sighed in relief when he saw that Stiles was all right and opened the door properly, the rest of the Hale family coming in after him.

"The table looks lovely, Erica," Talia said with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Alpha Talia. Stiles helped me," Erica added, taking the box of cutlery off the table and hurrying back to the kitchen.

"All right, you pack of wolves; I've got beans, eggs, toast, and bacon! And only two hands!" a male voice called out cheerfully.

A lanky man appeared in the doorway, dark hair and olive skin, four plates held precariously on his long arms. He was obviously another werewolf, but he wasn't built as solidly as Stiles expected him to be, even though he'd already seen the man's photo in Derek's room.

"Look out!" Mr. Hale called, laughter coming from Cora and the two younger boys as he pretended to drop a dish.

"Dad, you're going to break something again. Let me help," Derek muttered, grabbing two plates from him.

"Thought you'd never offer. Now, where's our guest? Boyd, could you put my glasses on for me?" he asked, turning towards the quiet young man and grinning.

"Yes, sir," he replied, taking his glasses off Mr. Hale's head and placing them on his face gently.

"Much better, thank you! Now, there you are, you little troublemaker," Mr. Hale said with a grin, finally setting down the two plates on the table. "I've heard a lot about you," he said, walking over to Stiles.

"Uh, I'd ask if it's all good, but probably not with the troublemaker comment," Stiles said with a slight cough, cheeks red.

"Nah, it's all good anyway. You're not going to do something like that again, are you?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Now I won't feel obliged to subject you to Peter's singing," he said, winking when Peter made a noise of protest around a piece of toast. "I'm Frank Hale, Talia's husband, and the father of _at least_ two of this pack."

"Stiles Stilinski. Um, I'm no one really."

Frank scoffed, shaking his head and leading Stiles out of the connecting door and into the library. Stiles could see Derek watching them curiously, then Frank closed the door behind them, blocking out the noise from the dining room. "So you're no one, huh?"

Stiles nodded, shrugging. "No one special, definitely. Not a husband or a father. Not a son anymore, either," he added quietly.

"Hmm, that definitely is something. You know, you're the first _no one_ I've met. You don't smell like a _no one_ , and let me tell you, a _no one_ definitely could _not_ have convinced my son or those three betas to sneak into Beacon Hills last night. So let's try this again. I'm Frank Hale, Talia's husband, father of three, uncle of two, a member of this pack, and a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself," Frank said with a grin, holding out his hand for Stiles.

Stiles looked at him for a brief moment, thought for a moment longer, and then shook Frank's hand firmly. "I'm Stiles Stilinski. Orphan, sacrifice, troublemaker, and I'm a pretty good cook myself. And apparently, I'm your son's mate."

Frank laughed, loud and boisterously, and Stiles grinned a little at the sound and sight. Frank looked just as happy as Talia had when she laughed. It was nice to be the cause of that sort of happy laughter for once.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Stiles Stilinski. Now, let's talk food," Frank said, his arm around Stiles' shoulder as he led him back into the dining room.

Derek seemed to brighten up at the sight of Stiles and Frank talking, discussing the best sweet pastry crust they'd made, and grinned all through breakfast. Even Peter raising his eyebrows at Derek knowingly wasn't enough to bring his mood down.

...

"Der-bear, play with me!" Cora called after everyone finished eating, tugging on her brother's sleeve.

"Lovely breakfast, Francisco. See you for dinner," Peter called.

"He sounds like such a freeloader," Susan muttered, rolling her eyes at her husband's retreating form.

"You still love me!" Peter called over his shoulder, grinning.

"Yeah, you're lucky I do. Tomorrow, you're cooking breakfast!" Susan called.

"Burnt toast it is," Peter said, chuckling.

"We'll look after the boys, Susan; go enjoy some time with Peter," Talia offered with a smile.

"Thank you, Talia," Susan said, kissing her sons on their heads, murmuring words of love to them. Then her jaw set and she hurried out after her husband, muttering words like 'spoiled ass' under her breath instead.

"Stiles, I don't think you've met Robert and Thomas yet. Robert, Thomas, say hello to Stiles," Talia said, smiling at the two young toddlers.

Robert let out a small growl and Thomas waved brightly.

"Guess which one the werewolf is?" Erica snickered.

"Guess who just got put on babysitting duty?" Frank taunted, grinning when her face fell.

"Derek, by the looks of it," Isaac muttered, looking at Cora's big eyes as she continued to plead with her brother.

"Go on, Derek. I've still got reading to catch up on, and I'll be boring company anyway," Stiles said, realising that Derek wanted to spend time with him instead of his sister.

Derek sighed and finally gave in to Cora, letting her tug him out of the dining room and upstairs. She was old enough to entertain herself, but she always got more possessive when someone new came to the house, and Derek expected to be playing tea party for the rest of the day now.

Erica went over to Robert and Thomas, grinning when they smiled up at her. Boyd picked up Tommy, holding him in his arms carefully, while Erica tucked Robbie under her arm, the young boy giggling wildly.

"I'll help with the dishes," Isaac offered, starting to collect the dishes.

"One day, I'll get everyone to take their dishes to the kitchen," Talia murmured, shaking her head. "And thank you, Isaac. Stiles, can you spare some time to help Isaac before he has to start chopping wood?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. It was a really good breakfast, thanks," Stiles said, helping Isaac gather the plates and cutlery, following him to the kitchen.

Stiles stopped short in the doorway, almost dropping the dishes. Isaac hurried to take the plates and cutlery moving to the side with a broad grin as Talia and Frank followed Stiles in to the large kitchen. Sitting on the kitchen bench was a photo album and a small bound book, both with red bows on top of them.

"We thought you would like to preserve your photos for longer than they would have while in that tin box. And Frank organised your recipes, then bound them together for you," Talia explained.

Stiles turned and hugged them both firmly, then went over to the bench, opening the photo album, and smiling a bit at the photo of his mother and father. It was a few months after they had met, Claudia leaning over John to smile down at him, her hair almost obscuring him from view. But John was smiling, and that was something he hadn't done for a few years now. It was Stiles' favourite photo of them.

"Thank you for this. I... I really didn't expect it, especially not after what danger I put you all in, and I... fuck, sorry," he mumbled, wiping at his tears.

Isaac whined slightly, and he could hear him sniffling as well. Stiles hugged the photo album to his chest and used his free hand to flip through the recipe book.

"Can I make something for you all tonight? To thank you for everything?" he asked hesitantly, looking to Talia and Frank.

"Derek's meant to be cooking as his punishment. But," Talia added before Stiles could say or do anything, "I never said he couldn't have help. So, if you would like to ask him, I'm sure Derek will gladly welcome the assistance."

"Thank god; I was worried we'd be eating mac 'n cheese for two months," Frank muttered, chuckling against Talia's shoulder.

" _Burnt_ mac 'n cheese at that," Isaac quipped, grinning.

"Boys, that's not funny; Derek's inability to cook comes from lack of confidence and a lack of practice. I'm sure he'll become better at it now he has a reason to," Talia said, looking between her husband and her beta, and quelling their laughter. "The pantry is over here, and if you can't find something you need for dinner, just let me know and I'll make sure you have it before tonight, all right, Stiles?"

"Thank you. Y'know, for everything," Stiles added, hugging her and Frank once more.

"You're welcome. I'll wash up; Isaac, you have a chore to start, and Stiles, I'm sure you can find a way to occupy your time. Your schooling will start on Monday, so you have today and tomorrow to relax," Talia added, pushing up her sleeves as she headed over to the kitchen sink.

Isaac slipped out of the kitchen door to get the axe, and Frank followed to help him.

"All right; thanks," Stiles added, heading out of the kitchen with his photo album and recipe book in hand.

Stiles wandered through the house; he didn't really want to go back to Derek's room, and while he could have sat in the library and poured over his photographs for hours, he wanted to see the Hale house properly. The library, kitchen, dining room, and lounge room were all downstairs, along with a spare bedroom that Stiles figured was the guest room, and a bathroom. Nearly every room seemed to have books or photographs of some kind, and Stiles  soon found himself at the end of the house, walking into what looked like a den. He grinned when he saw Derek and Cora sitting at what looked to be a picnic, a tea set between them and stuffed animals sitting around the blanket.

"Tea?" Cora offered, holding up the teapot to Derek.

"Yes, please," Derek replied, carefully holding out his teacup.

Cora concentrated carefully as she poured the imaginary tea and set the pot down. Then she picked up a small bowl, offering Derek sugar.

"Three, please."

"Not three, Der-bear!" Cora said.

"And why not?" Derek asked, grinning.

"Too much! Greedy, Der-bear."

"Greedy? Well, I'm just going to gobble you up for being so rude," he said, shifting and letting out a growl.

Cora growled back, eyes flicking to gold, and she leaped across the blanket to land on her brother, Derek laughing and tickling her.

"Cora, you want to say hi to Stiles?" Derek offered, tilting his head back to grin over at Stiles.

Cora growled again, pouting through her fangs.

"It's okay, you don't have to. I'll go read like I said I would," Stiles said quickly, trying to give Cora his best smile as he headed back out.

"Stiles, wait!"

Stiles turned back, Derek standing up with Cora in his arms.

"She's just shy with new people. Cora didn't talk to Erica for a whole month, did you, Cor?"

She didn't say anything in response, turning towards Derek a little more.

"You like Erica now though, don't you, Cora? Stiles is the same, okay?" Derek added, patting her back gently. "Stiles likes you, don't you, Stiles?"

"Yeah, of course. Who wouldn't like someone who has such awesome tea parties? I never had anyone to play tea parties with. I used to make pretty good mud pies, though," he added, grinning.

"Mud pies are okay," Cora mumbled, still not looking at Stiles, and clinging to Derek's shirt firmly. "You can go now."

Derek frowned down at his sister, but Stiles just shook his head.

"All right. Nice to meet you, Cora," he said warmly, leaving to head upstairs.

He didn't blame her for being shy, or for not liking him on sight. Cora would either get used to him or she wouldn't. He kind of hoped she did though; family seemed like a pretty important thing to the whole Hale family, Derek especially.

When he was upstairs, Stiles saw that all of the bedroom doors were open, sunlight filtering into the main landing from them. Erica's room was the first on the left, and he could hear her howling. Stiles looked inside to see Boyd sitting on the floor, Robert and Thomas sitting on each of his legs, and Erica up on the bed, reading a picture book out loud to them. Grinning, Stiles continued past, and inspected the rest of the floor.

Boyd's bedroom was next to Erica's, Isaac's was across the way next to Derek's, further down was Cora's bedroom (Stiles assumed it was hers because it was purple and a number of stuffed animals seemed to be missing from the shelves), and there was another room that was probably Laura's. There were another two rooms that didn't really seem to be lived in, but were spacious and clean, and then the master bedroom at the end that belonged to Talia and Frank. The main upstairs bathroom was opposite the two guest rooms, and while it looked more used than the downstairs bathroom, Stiles figured that the bedrooms all had their own small ensuites like Derek's did. Every bed was made in the bedrooms, no matter the state of the rest of the room, and Stiles was surprised to find them so neat, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

He made his way back into Derek's bedroom, settling into the armchair, and putting the photo album and recipe book on his lap. Stiles decided to look at them later, but couldn't bring himself to part with them just yet, and left them where they were as he grabbed the book he'd been reading yesterday and continued from where he'd left off.

...

End of sixth chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

Cora was finally placated, had scented him long enough that Derek could barely smell his own scent, let alone Stiles' anymore, and she'd announced that he could leave now. Derek had stayed a little longer - he hadn't finished his tea, after all - and Cora seemed happy that he hadn't run off immediately.

Following Stiles' scent up to his bedroom ( _was it_ ** _their_** _bedroom now? Oh, fuck, he couldn't think about that too long, not out in the open like this_ ), Derek found Stiles engrossed in a book. He was sitting in Derek's armchair, and he let out a soft whine at the sight; now he was going to be bombarded with Stiles' scent while he slept tonight. While it made a part of him happy, another part of Derek wondered just who was planning this sort of torture for him because they were doing a fucking good job of it.

Derek went inside before Erica or Boyd heard his small whines and came out to investigate, and shut the door behind him. The noise barely took Stiles' attention away from the book.

"Hey, Derek. Do you have a knot?" Stiles asked, finally looking up from the book.

Derek knew exactly which chapter he was reading just from that question alone, heart pounding in his chest as he tried to think of something to say. _Fuck. This was something his parents should be telling Stiles, right? Like the werewolf version of The Talk?_ Derek thought with a grimace.

"Too personal? Shit, sorry. I... I'll ask later, y'know, when we're both ready to do... uh, _it_. Don't worry."

"Yes," Derek blurted out.

 _Smooth, Derek; real smooth_ , he mentally chastised himself.

"Uh... _Yes_ , you have a knot? Or _yes_ , it's too personal?" Stiles asked, frowning.

"The first one," he muttered, his cheeks red.

"Really? I thought it was only restricted to werewolves that had a mate, but I guess this book's outdated since it was written back in the ... what, 1600's or something? But is it really true about being the size of your fist? Can you make a fist for me, so I can see?" Stiles asked, obviously too excited about the topic to realise just how personal these questions were.

 _Or maybe he just didn't care_ , Derek thought. He sighed under his breath and moved to sit on his bed, across from Stiles.

"A werewolf can only knot with themselves or their mate, which is why the book says it's restricted to wolves with mates - apparently writing the equivalent of a book on wolf sexual education didn't include self-love," Derek muttered, making Stiles laugh. He brightened up a bit at that, and continued, "I guess it's the size of a fist, I haven't exactly measured... Not in the right frame of mind to whip out a ruler while I've got a knot," he admitted, cheeks and ears red.

"Oh, _right_. Yeah, I totally get that. So can I see the size of your fist, anyway?" Stiles asked, grinning broadly.

Derek blushed again, tried to look menacing as he rolled his eyes, and held up a fisted hand. Stiles' heartbeat sped up a bit, and Derek looked to him, just in time to see Stiles licking his lips. And that just _wasn't fair_. Stiles' mouth was on par with his hands for sex personified and now he was _licking his fucking lips_.

"Whoa there, big guy. Put the wolf claws away before you hurt yourself," Stiles murmured, patting his knee briefly.

Derek did as Stiles said, forcing himself to _breathe_ and look at something other than Stiles-Stiles-Stiles.

"Everything okay?" Stiles asked with a slight frown.

Derek just nodded in return; he didn't trust his voice right then. Stiles seemed reassured nonetheless, and settled back on the armchair, setting the book aside. Derek noticed the two books sitting on his lap ( _damn it, he wasn't meant to be looking at Stiles, especially not his crotch!_ ) and frowned slightly; he was positive that he hadn't seen them before.

"What are those?" he asked, voice a little rougher than it should have been.

Stiles glanced down and grinned broadly, holding the books close. "Your parents made them for me. One's all of the recipes we brought back, and the other has my photos. Want to see them?" Stiles asked.

"Yes, please," Derek added, knowing just how important this would be for Stiles.

Derek had had no idea what his parents had intended to do with the photos and recipes, and resolved to thank them as soon as possible.

At Derek's affirmative answer, Stiles stood and moved to sit beside him on the bed. Derek's heart raced and he smiled, probably looking like an idiot, but Stiles didn't seem to mind. He opened the photo album first and turned to the first page.

"That's Mum when she was pregnant with me," Stiles said, tracing the contour of her face gently.

The redheaded woman was smiling broadly, holding her swollen stomach protectively. She was dressed in a red and white polka dot shirt with a pair of purple and orange leggings, and Derek raised an eyebrow at the colours.

"Dad always said I got my fashion sense from Mum," Stiles added when he saw Derek's expression, grinning broadly.

Derek thought of the blue and orange striped shirt - the very same one he'd hidden in his pillow instead of taking it to the laundry with the rest of Stiles' clothes - and just nodded quickly, cheeks tinged red.

"This one's of all of us at the hospital. I was a wrinkly little baby; I looked like an over-baked potato," Stiles muttered with a frown.

Derek snorted in amusement, shaking his head. "Tommy and Robbie looked like little raisins. We weren't allowed to go near Peter's house for three straight months after they were born."

"Why not? Did Susan forbid it?" Stiles asked curiously.

"No, Peter did. He's really protective of the twins, and would growl at us any time we even so much as looked at the house while shifted. He's eased up a bit now, but Susan knew we wouldn't hurt them; she was here when Cora was born and knew we'd never hurt them."

"Must be nice having such a big family," Stiles mused, looking at the picture of his mother and father kissing, his smaller body nestled between them.

"Sometimes I think I'd never change it for the world; other times I'd give my right arm just for a bit of privacy," Derek admitted, shaking his head.

Stiles would have replied, but the door burst open right at that moment.

"Ha! Caught you! ... Doing _nothing?_  What the hell, guys?" Erica groaned, rolling her eyes at them. "If you're going to close the door, at least make it worthwhile," she muttered.

Derek felt Stiles shift away from him briefly, and he scowled at her.

"See what I mean?" Derek said to Stiles, who laughed and relaxed a bit again.

"Stiles, Talia asked if you need anything for dinner? If you do, you'll need to let her know within an hour so we can go get it," Erica said. "Also, lunch is almost ready."

"What about dinner?" Derek asked curiously.

"I meant to ask you earlier, but you were busy with Cora. I wanted to cook something for dinner to thank your parents for their gifts, and as a way to say sorry, but since you're meant to be making dinner, your mum said I had to ask you if I could help first. So, uh, can I help you cook dinner?"

"Yes, definitely," Derek said immediately, grinning brightly.

"Thank goodness for that," Erica muttered. "I'm going over to Peter and Susan's with Boyd and the boys. We're having lunch there, but we'll be back in time for dinner," she added, leaving them alone again.

"What are you planning on cooking?" Derek asked Stiles curiously.

Stiles scrambled off the bed to close the door. "It's a surprise; I don't want everyone to know," he added, heading back over to the bed and picking up the recipe book.

"So you've already decided then?" Derek asked, grinning.

"I've got a few options. I thought you might like to decide, since you know what everyone likes to eat, and you know what you can do in the kitchen," Stiles replied, flipping through the recipe book.

"Honestly, I can't do much in there. I can't even boil eggs properly. The most I'd be able to do is chopping and cutting. Maybe frying."

Stiles stopped turning pages and frowned at Derek. "What the hell were you planning to cook for dinner?"

"I'm pretty sure there's soup in the freezer. I was going to reheat that in the microwave," he admitted.

"All right then. We'll start with something simple, instead of the more advanced recipes just now," Stiles murmured. "We'll work our way up to those, okay?"

"Okay," Derek said brightly, trying not to grin too broadly just because Stiles was implying that they'd be cooking together again.

He resolved to do everything just as Stiles asked, not wanting to mess it up and have Stiles hate or avoid him. So long as he didn't need to do anything that actually involved cooking, Derek thought he might be okay with this.

"Y'know what, these recipes might be a bit much. Don't know what I was thinking; _bigos_ takes four hours to cook," Stiles muttered.

"Four _hours?_ Really?" Derek asked in surprise. He doubted anyone in their family would be able to wait if they could smell something cooking for four straight hours!

"Yeah, it's a Polish stew. Made it when I was younger when my mum was alive; it smelled so good that our neighbours actually came knocking to see what we were cooking. Dad swore he could smell it down the end of the street," Stiles added with a chuckle.

"Can we make that another day?"

"Sure. Does anyone have an issue with eating sauerkraut?"

"I don't think we've ever had it, honestly."

"It's basically fermented cabbage. With everything else in the recipe, it's not as sour as it is on its own," Stiles added, seeing Derek's dubious expression.

"Well, I know we definitely don't have sauerkraut in the pantry or fridge," he said with a slight shrug.

"That's all right, I know how to make it myself. Might do that tonight, that way it'll be ready for when we want to make the stew."

"Okay," Derek said slowly, still unsure as to how he felt about fermented cabbage.

"So, what does everyone like? Fish, chicken, pork, or beef?" Stiles asked, turning back to the recipe book once more.

"Cora hates fish. She's still too young to get past the smell and refuses to try it. Chicken, pork, or beef is probably best."

"All right... Hmm, what about garlic?"

"Can be a bit overpowering, but everyone loves garlic bread," Derek said with a grin.

"Garlic chicken kiev wouldn't be too much, would it?" Stiles asked, looking over at him.

"I think they'd survive, so long as it's not the only thing on the plate."

"Okay. Something to balance out the smell of garlic," Stiles mused, turning the pages rapidly, eyes scanning the headings on each page. "How's everyone with bacon and mushrooms?"

"Bacon's always a big hit. Tommy will only eat mushrooms if they're cooked."

"Sounds like a good thing to me. Any complaints about broccoli or spinach?"

Derek pulled a face at that one. "I don't like eating spinach if I can help it."

"Have you had it sautéed in butter with bacon?"

"No, and I don't think I want to," Derek replied, shaking his head.

"All right, I'll make sure to do yours separately without the spinach then," Stiles said with a grin. "C'mon, let's go have lunch. Then we'll check out your pantry and see what we've got to work with."

"Sounds like a good idea," he said, grinning.

Stiles grinned back at him, holding the recipe book in one hand and grabbing Derek's with the other. Derek pulled him in close for a hug, breathing in the scent that Cora had worked so hard to remove. She'd probably be upset with him at lunch, but with his face pressed against Stiles' neck like this, Derek couldn't bring himself to care.

"Better now, big guy?" Stiles asked, pulling away and giving him a smile.

Derek nodded, a little guiltily because he'd just plastered himself over Stiles without even asking.

"Next time, let me put the book down; it's awkward as all fuck hugging someone with a book digging into you," Stiles said.

"Sorry," Derek murmured.

"No, no, not like that; nothing to be sorry about. See? Not even a mark," Stiles said, tugging his shirt up to reveal his chest.

Derek suddenly felt out of breath, staring at Stiles' chest, his sinewy body, the trail of hair that went from his navel down into the waistband of his pants. He actually let out a loud whine at the sight, and Stiles looked at him, cheeks red as he realised just what he was doing.

"I'm... _Fuck_ , Derek, _look_ at you... I don't know what the hell you're seeing, big guy, but it's not as good as all that," Stiles muttered, pulling his shirt down again.

Derek licked his lips quickly, reaching out a hand to touch the hem of Stiles' shirt. "Yes, you are... _Please_ ," he begged.

Stiles was still blushing, but he nodded, setting the book down carefully. Derek let out a sigh of relief, hand slipping under Stiles' shirt as he watched his reaction. His skin was warm and soft, and Derek bit back another whine, wanting to bury his head against Stiles' stomach for _hours_. He kept a careful eye on Stiles as he let his fingertips trail up to his chest, brushing lightly against his nipple. The scent of arousal that he was just starting to recognise became thicker suddenly, and Derek let out a shuddering breath as Stiles bit his bottom lip firmly. He stroked his nipple again, and Stiles whimpered, a flush creeping up along his neck.

There was a knock at the door and they both pulled away quickly, blushing red.

"Lunch is ready," Talia informed them.

Derek was still reeling at being interrupted, almost being caught, and didn't trust his voice to respond. They both stayed silent as they watched Talia's shadow leave from under the door to go back downstairs.

"We'd better get down there," Stiles murmured, cheeks still red.

Derek wanted to pull Stiles back into his arms, to kiss him until his full pink lips were swollen and tender, until Stiles was moaning his name and begging for more. But he couldn't do that, not yet, not when this was still so new to them both. Derek took a moment to breathe, taking in Stiles' scent once more, and then gave a firm nod.

"All right. If we... Can we do that again later?" he couldn't stop himself from asking, cheeks and ears red again.

" _Fuck yes_ ," Stiles blurted out, grinning broadly as he took Derek's hand in his own, and they headed out of the bedroom to go downstairs.

Derek was thankful that Peter was having lunch at his own home today, and Erica had gone over there too. He could still smell the scent of lust on both Stiles and himself, and he had no doubt that they would have teased him relentlessly. As it was, his mother raised an eyebrow knowingly, smiling gently as she offered them a plate of sandwiches each. Derek blushed a bit, but felt ridiculously pleased when Stiles grabbed the plate with his free hand rather than letting go of his hand to take it. He did the same, not even caring that it was awkward with his left hand, and followed Stiles to the dining room happily. Cora wrinkled her nose at them, but was too preoccupied with her own lunch to complain about the odd scent. Frank smirked a little on seeing Derek and Stiles' hands.

" _Yo creó que a el le gustas_ ," Frank said, winking. ( _I think he likes you._ Spanish)

" _¡Papá! No! El podria entenderte_ ," Derek hissed back fluently, glancing over at Stiles. ( _Papa! No! He might understand you._ Spanish)

"Was that Spanish?" Stiles asked curiously, looking between them.

" _Si_ ," Frank said, grinning. "I was just asking Derek about dinner."

Stiles didn't look as though he believed him. "It's a surprise," he replied anyway, stubbornly.

"I look forward to it then," Frank said with another grin.

Derek sat down and shoved a sandwich in his mouth so he wouldn't be tempted to say something. Stiles gave his hand a squeeze, smiled at him, and let go of his hand so he could eat properly. Derek swallowed around the lump of food with difficulty, hating that he already felt the loss of Stiles' warmth against his skin. He forced himself not to think about Stiles' chest, the way he'd gasped as he touched his body, how sensitive he was to Derek's touch.

"You're welcome to eat your lunch in your room if you'd like," Talia offered.

Derek's heart did a funny little leap when Stiles nodded and stood up before Derek had even had a chance to think it through. He grabbed his plate and glass of juice, hurrying after Stiles, and tried hard not to blush brightly when he heard his mother add ' _be safe_ ' in a soft murmur. Derek closed the door behind them firmly, and saw Stiles pacing, his plate and glass already sitting on Derek's computer desk.

"Fuck, that was going to be the most awkward lunch ever, and I've sat at _Lydia_ _Martin's_ table before. I couldn't stop thinking about it, about _you_. Can we do it again? Right now?" Stiles asked, setting his plate aside.

Derek nodded, at a loss for words. He set his plate and glass down carefully next to Stiles' and watched him carefully as he moved closer. Stiles bit his lip, then licked the indentation his teeth had left behind, and Derek almost whined, wanting to do the exact same thing.

"You too, this time. I want to touch you too," Stiles said, staring at Derek's shirt as though it would disappear if he thought about it hard enough.

Derek didn't hesitate, pulling his shirt off completely, and tugging at Stiles' shirt to do the same.

"I... uh. That was... _Fuck_ , Derek," Stiles muttered, pulling Derek close and kissing him firmly.

It took Derek a full second to respond to Stiles' kiss. It was the first one between them, and it wasn't soft and sweet as Derek thought it would've been. This was a flame between them, surging up into a fire and consuming them. He kissed as eagerly and hungrily as Stiles did, hands firm on his ribs as he held him close, tongue tangling and sliding into Stiles' mouth. Stiles' tongue licked and pressed against his, nipping at his lips and tongue, their teeth knocking together as they both tried to fill their need for _more_.

"Derek, I... Wait, we should probably eat lunch first," Stiles groaned.

"We can eat later," Derek murmured, pressing firm kisses to Stiles' neck.

"We can do this later too," Stiles replied, though he didn't let go of Derek.

"If we eat now, we have to stop kissing," Derek said, kissing Stiles' lips between every other word. "If we eat later, we don't have to stop."

Stiles found that he didn't have that kind of willpower, not when his first kiss was turning into something as amazing as this. He threaded his fingers into Derek's hair, holding him close as he continued to kiss him firmly. Derek smiled against his lips, one hand against the small of Stiles' back to press their bodies together. Stiles' lips were swollen by the time they pulled away again, and Derek licked his own, feeling the slight swell to them.

"Well, I think that wins all the awards for best first kiss ever," Stiles murmured, grinning as he teased and played with the small hairs at the nape of Derek's neck.

"That was your first kiss?" Derek asked in surprise.

"Yeah," he replied, his grin faltering. "Why? Was it bad? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just... I thought you'd have people queueing up to kiss you. Your mouth is... _fuck_ , I don't even know how to describe it," Derek murmured, running the pad of his thumb along Stiles' bottom lip.

Stiles stopped looking so worried and grinned broadly, his tongue flicking out against Derek's thumb before he moved to take it in his mouth entirely. Derek could feel blood rushing down from his brain to his cock with that, and just stared at Stiles' impish grin as he wrapped his fucking tongue around Derek's thumb and _sucked_. It was utterly obscene, and Derek wanted to back Stiles up against the closest flat surface to rut up against him shamelessly.

" _Stiles_ ," he groaned, burying his head against Stiles' shoulder.

He actually _hummed_ in response, and fuck it, Derek wasn't sure he had that sort of control. He let out another groan, breathing in Stiles' scent to try to calm himself down. Fuck, he was going to come in his pants like he was still an awkward and horny thirteen-year-old if he didn't calm down, and Derek couldn't even bring himself to truly care. The aroused scent from Stiles filled the room completely, and Derek's joined it. They smelled amazing together, and the scents were strong enough that Derek was sure he'd be smelling it for _weeks_.

There was a gurgling sound from Stiles' stomach, and his lustful scent was soon overtaken by embarrassment. Derek pulled away from him slowly, licking his lips at the sight of Stiles' swollen bottom lip, wanting to kiss him all over again.

"We both need to eat," Derek said, breathing heavily and forcing himself to step back.

Stiles nodded quickly, but looked as miserable as Derek felt.

"Want to sit on the bed together?" he offered, wanting the contact with his mate, to make Stiles smile again if nothing else.

"Yeah... That'd be nice," Stiles admitted, grabbing his plate of sandwiches and moving onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge awkwardly. "Coming, big guy?" he asked, grinning up at him.

Derek nodded and moved so he was sitting nearby, but not draped on top of Stiles, no matter how much he wanted to be. Stiles mumbled something under his breath, too soft and incoherent for Derek's hearing to catch, and moved closer, their bodies pressed against each other from shoulders to feet. Derek grinned and kissed the side of Stiles' mouth quickly, face flushed softly as he started to eat his lunch. Beside him, Stiles looked pleased, and knocked his shoulder against Derek's, grinning.

" _Definitely_ wins all the awards," Stiles said, this time purposely loud enough for Derek to hear him.

Derek grinned at him in a mix of delight, surprise, and pure ridiculous puppy-like happiness. A few minutes later, that feeling was nothing compared to the one he felt when Stiles took his hand in his own, threading their fingers together.

...

End of seventh chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Spanish used was from an online translator; please feel free to let me know if it's wrong!  
> EDIT: Spanish translations helpfully provided by Sakuralight, just_wanna_kiss_you, and yuushishi - thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles continued to read in silence, and Derek dozed beside him, his wolf calm and sated by being so close to his mate. Both Derek and his wolf almost started purring as Stiles tugged Derek down so he was resting on his lap and then started to stroke Derek's hair gently.

 

There was a knock at the door, startling Derek out of his relaxed state, and he stumbled over to the door, hair sticking up at odd angles.

 

"Good, you're both decent. Your mother wants to know if we need anything for dinner," Frank said.

 

"Of course we're decent, do you think I'd open the door if we weren't?" Derek muttered, his father laughing in response.

 

"I guess not. If you let me know what you're cooking for dinner, I can check we have all of the ingredients?" he offered, looking amused.

 

"It's still a surprise; you're not getting it out of me that easily," Stiles called, standing and heading over to the door with the recipe book tucked into the hoodie's front pocket.

 

He grinned a little at the state of Derek's hair and reached up to fix it for him. Derek's eyes closed at the feeling, and he relaxed against Stiles' hands.

 

"That's better. C'mon, let's check the pantry before we run out of time," Stiles said, grabbing Derek's hand and tugging him down to the kitchen.

 

Frank chuckled behind them, and Derek was tempted to glower at his father, but they were already down the stairs before he could attempt the action. Stiles chatted away happily as he started to hunt through the pantry, about his first attempts at cooking and how disastrous they'd been, his words tempered with exclamations at the different things he found amongst the shelves.

 

"Oh, is that a box of Pop Tarts?" Stiles asked, grabbing the box and hugging it to his chest. "I've missed Pop Tarts," he sighed.

 

"I can see that," Derek teased playfully, a grin tugging at his lips. "Can I look for anything in the fridge?"

 

"Cabbage, butter... wait, can the others hear this?" Stiles asked with a frown.

 

"No; the kitchen's the same as the bedrooms. Dad has a tendency to swear when he realises that Peter's raided our pantry or fridge, so Mum had Deaton do the same spell to save Cora and the twins' innocent ears," Derek said with a chuckle.

 

"Oh, good. Right, I need the cabbage and butter, mushrooms, green beans, spinach, bacon, broccoli, eggs," Stiles listed, ticking things off on his fingers. "I read about mountain ash in those books; that'd stop Peter from getting into the pantry, wouldn't it?"

 

"Yes, but it'd also stop Dad," Derek pointed out.

 

"Semantics," Stiles waved off, grinning.

 

"It'd stop me too," Derek added lowly, crowding up against Stiles.

 

" _Mmm_... Ooh, breadcrumbs! Stay right there," Stiles said, climbing Derek to get to the top shelf.

 

"Did you just use me as a ladder?" Derek asked, blinking.

 

"Kind of," he said, grinning. "Now, go check the fridge and freezer for those ingredients."

 

Derek wondered what it said about him that he wanted Stiles even _more_ now that he looked to be in control and was demanding things with such authority in his voice. His mouth went dry as Derek wondered what he'd do if Stiles ever used that tone of voice when they were in bed together. _Oh, fuck, he was so gone_.

 

He didn't realise that his eyes had lit up gold until he saw Stiles watching him intently and noticed the gold haze around his face. Stiles cupped his hand against Derek's cheek gently, and Derek turned his face to nuzzle against his mate.

 

"Go on, before we desecrate the pantry," Stiles said, voice throaty and filled with lust.

 

"Wouldn't want to defile the Pop Tarts," Derek replied, grinning broadly when Stiles gasped dramatically, and then licked Stiles' palm lightly before heading over to the fridge.

 

" _Fuck me_ ," Stiles murmured, exhaling shakily.

 

Derek revelled in the jackhammering beat of his mate's heart, and grinned as he opened the fridge to look for the ingredients he'd listed.

 

"What are we cooking, anyway?" Derek asked curiously, hunting through the fridge.

 

"Chicken kiev and a side dish of my own creation; your Dad knows what's in this recipe book since he put it together, and I really did mean it when I said I wanted it to be a surprise," Stiles said with a grin.

 

It was a devious move on Stiles’ part and Derek chuckled in appreciation. His wolf suddenly conveyed an image of a hunt, of tracking Stiles and chasing him, of being tricked by him as only Stiles could do. Derek suddenly wanted his mate to be a werewolf more than anything, to run and chase after him, the thrill of the hunt claiming both of them, to track him and follow him, running and pinning him to the ground, to fuck and claim him under a full moon, to hear Stiles howl for him and only him.

 

Stiles came out of the pantry to see Derek standing at the fridge, completely still and a white-knuckled grip on the door.

 

"You okay there, big guy?" Stiles asked, moving closer and resting a hand on Derek’s shoulder.

 

Derek turned at the contact, eyes gold as he backed Stiles up against the kitchen island, kissing him fiercely. Stiles’ heart raced and he kissed Derek in return, holding his shoulders tightly.

 

"Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?" Stiles breathed heavily when they pulled away.

 

Derek didn’t respond for a moment, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Stiles’ jawline. Stiles supposed the act was similar to scenting and claiming, or perhaps Derek just liked it. Either way, Stiles was still not complaining in the slightest.

 

"Wanted to show my appreciation for having you," Derek murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Stiles’ lips.

 

Stiles grinned at him, then returned the chaste kiss. "Feel free to show that anytime then."

 

Derek smiled, a warm heart-melting smile that made Stiles’ stomach actually flutter, and Stiles stepped out of Derek’s embrace, licking his lips.

 

"Find those ingredients yet?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and waiting expectantly.

 

"We've got all of them," Derek said quickly with a nod. "There's not much spinach though," he added with a small amount of reluctance.

 

"Okay, I'll let your dad know. We can probably start cooking in an hour or so, if you want to spend more time upstairs," Stiles suggested, his cheeks going a bright pink colour.

 

" _Hell, yes_ ," Derek groaned, pressing one more firm kiss to Stiles' mouth before he let him leave.

 

Stiles licked his lips, feeling tingly and a little dazed, and left the kitchen to find Frank. Derek shut the fridge door, then went into the pantry to hide the Pop Tarts so his uncle wouldn't eat them. Stiles liked Pop Tarts, so Derek would make sure his mate had them. With that done, Derek headed upstairs to wait for Stiles in his room.

 

Stiles hurried to Derek's room, trying not to seem like he was rushing. Frank and Talia had already looked at him like they knew every dirty thought he'd had about their son, but were amused by it more than anything else. Stiles closed the bedroom door behind him firmly, cheeks still pink, and then stopped when he saw Derek lying on the bed shirtless. He might have whimpered a little at the sight, and Derek looked over at him with a grin that looked hungry.

 

"Coming?" Derek asked.

 

Stiles nodded quickly, close to tripping over his own feet to get to the bed that much faster. Derek caught him before Stiles fell completely and tugged him into the bed, right on top of his lap.

 

"That's better," Derek murmured, his hands resting on Stiles' hips, thumbs stroking against his sharp hip bones.

 

"Yeah," Stiles murmured in return, kissing Derek softly, tongue flicking out to part his mouth.

 

Derek obliged immediately, his own tongue pressing against Stiles' as he held him firmly against his body. Stiles made a soft noise of appreciation, sliding his tongue against Derek's experimentally. Derek followed his retreating tongue, running his tongue along the roof of Stiles' mouth, curious as to his response. Stiles seemed to breathe in sharply at that, his gasp swallowed by Derek's mouth, and he rolled his hips against Derek's firmly, moving until he was kissing him even more eagerly, licking into his mouth filthily, their lips sliding against the other's. Derek felt Stiles trembling on top of him but he couldn't smell any fear or negative emotions, all of it seemed geared towards pleasure and excitement, and Derek knew just how that felt. Stiles held onto his shoulders, his fingers probably tight enough to bruise, and rolled his hips up again. Derek broke off the kiss with a soft gasp, panting heavily as he looked up at Stiles and tried to stamp down on his urge to flip them, to pull Stiles' pants off and swallow his hardening cock.

 

"Getting a little intense, huh?" Stiles said with a breathy little laugh.

 

"Nothing little about it," Derek mumbled, licking his lips.

 

Stiles laughed against his shoulder, but neither one moved, and he stayed straddled against Derek's waist, their bodies still slowly rocking against each other.

 

"You okay?" Derek asked, tracing a triskelion between Stiles' shoulder blades gently.

 

"Better than. You?"

 

"Same," he murmured, burying his nose against the crook of Stiles' shoulder.

 

"Derek? Tell me something true," Stiles murmured, his fingers threading through his hair.

 

"I could spend days in here with you," Derek replied honestly, his cheeks going red when his brain caught up to his mouth.

 

"Already figured that... Something that no one else knows," he reiterated, sliding his hands down to Derek's wrists.

 

"You want to know if I'm telling the truth?" Derek asked curiously, looking to their hands.

 

"You can hear my heartbeat, but I can't hear yours," Stiles admitted. "You don't have to, it was a stupid idea."

 

"No, it's not stupid," he said quickly. "You need to establish a baseline, like werewolves do with hearing a person's heartbeat. It's easier to spot a lie when we know the rhythm of their heart already, then we can tell when there's a skip or a spike."

 

"Okay... Is your name Derek?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Do you like spinach?"

 

"No."

 

"Are you a werewolf?"

 

"Yes."

 

Stiles shifted on his lap slightly, then gave a slight nod. "Tell me something true."

 

"I'm terrified of scaring you away," Derek said quietly.

 

Stiles bit his lip, but didn't move his hands away. "My turn."

 

"All right... Tell me something true," he murmured, listening to the steady thump of Stiles' heart.

 

"I'm terrified I won't be a good enough mate for you."

 

"Why?" Derek asked in disbelief; _Stiles was amazing and perfect, how could think that he wouldn't be a good enough mate?!_

 

"Nope, you first. Why do you think you'll scare me away?" Stiles asked, watching him carefully and keeping his fingers resting on his wrists lightly.

 

Derek took a deep breath. "I... I need you, have these intense urges to take you and claim you properly, to fuck you until you're screaming my name, and it feels like I'll burn with need until I have you. I don't want to do something too forward and scare you away. I wouldn't be able to handle it if you left me. I've been told that I'm somewhat a drama wolf," he added, Laura's teasing words seeming perfectly apt right then.

 

Stiles grinned at that and pressed a kiss to his mouth, soft and sweet. "I don't think I'm ready for that cock just yet," he admitted, glancing down to where Derek was half-hard between them. "But I'm definitely getting there, and you'll be the first to know when I am ready. I'm okay with the making out we've been doing, however intense it feels, and if you need me to do something to help appease your wolf, tell me and we can talk it through, okay?"

 

Derek nodded firmly, nuzzling against his mate's neck softly. "Your turn."

 

"Terrified that I'll be a disappointment to you, that you'll regret or resent having me as a mate. I know I'm not the world's greatest catch; I talk too much, I have no fashion sense, and I'm not exactly athletic or built, not in the way you are. I've got, like, 20% to offer in this relationship, and it's not even a good 20% either."

 

"I don't talk enough, I'm not good with words like you are; I like your fashion sense; and I like your physique. I can touch you, hold you, and pick you up, and I like being able to do that. You're smart, caring, passionate, and deadly, and you're more than I ever expected. You've got so much more than 20% to offer, and you don't even realise it. You're perfect, you're my mate," Derek said, voice firm and certain.

 

Stiles seemed surprised at the conviction in Derek's voice, blinking with wide eyes a few times. "You really think I'm all of that?"

 

"Not many people are so accepting of this life, or the truths that come along with it. You've accepted it, and you've actively asked for more information, that's smart to me. You helped Erica this morning, you let Isaac scent you, you even made Boyd smile, and you've stood up to my mother on behalf of all of us, that's definitely caring. You're passionate about so many things I don't even know where to start: cooking, comics, your parents, even Scott, you have no idea what that means to me. And my wolf was going crazy when we realised that you'd set up all of those traps in one day to protect your home, what was yours, and I want to know everything you did and teach you everything I know just to see what you'll do with it, because you're so amazing and perfect, and you'd make it even better than I could."

 

Stiles had gone a little pale, and Derek moved further back against his headboard, worried that he'd gone too far or done something wrong. Stiles shook his head, his hands finally leaving Derek's wrists to cup his face and kiss him eagerly.

 

"And you say you're not good with words," Stiles murmured against his lips.

 

"You're very inspiring," Derek admitted, feeling his cheeks flush.

 

"Such a sappy wolf," he said, kissing him again.

 

Derek just wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist and held him close, kissing him easily in return.

 

...

 

"Hey, Derek?" Stiles called, grinning at him from where he was watching over the chicken kiev in the stove.

 

"Yeah?" Derek answered distractedly, not looking away from the pot of water and rice.

 

"I promise the rice won't attack you if you relax."

 

Derek winced when he realised how tense his shoulders were, and forced himself to relax. "I just don't want to screw this up," he admitted, looking over to Stiles.

 

Stiles shrugged slightly. "Honestly, I've been cooking for eight years, and I can still screw up rice, so don't worry about it. I can do another batch in 15 minutes if it doesn't turn out right, and you can try again next time."

 

Derek hid a smile as he turned back to the stove, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at Stiles' implication that they'd do this together again.

 

"How are the vegetables going?" Stiles asked over his shoulder, ducking down slightly to look through the oven's glass door.

 

Derek lifted the lid carefully and waited for the steam to clear before he inspected the mix of boiling vegetables. The garlic butter that Stiles had made was still a fairly prominent smell in the kitchen, and he didn't trust his sense of smell to tell whether the greens were ready yet. "Uh, they're wet?"

 

Stiles snorted. "Sorry, we'll work up to that. Let me have a look," he said, grinning as he walked over and took the wooden spoon from Derek. "See the green beans, how they're not hard anymore? Don't want them splitting because then we should've just put in peas, but these are close enough to ready. If you want to tip that in the strainer, I'll check the spinach for you."

 

Derek nodded, waiting until Stiles moved back before he grabbed the pot. Turning to the sink, he tipped the water and greens in the colander and shook it cautiously, trying not to flip the vegetables into the sink.

 

"If you put them back in the pot, they can go back on the stove, and the bacon can be added for the last ten minutes, then the mushrooms for the last five. I'll add the spinach once yours is served," Stiles said, smiling at him.

 

"The chicken's almost done?" Derek asked, carefully tipping the vegetables back into the waiting pot.

 

"It'll be done by the time the bacon's ready," Stiles assured him, heading back over to the oven.

 

Derek scraped the bacon pieces off the chopping board into the pot with the vegetables, glancing over to the clock to see when he'd need to add the mushrooms. Stiles came up behind him, his natural scent mixed with garlic and butter, and Derek relaxed when Stiles did nothing more than place a hand between his shoulder blades.

 

"You've done really well, Derek," Stiles said.

 

"Probably would've done better if I hadn't freaked out over the mushrooms breaking apart," he countered, cheeks red.

 

Stiles shrugged. "They do that. I had a full on tantrum when I first used mushrooms, said the whole meal was ruined, and I would've refused to eat it if my dad hadn't practically force-fed me that night."

 

"How old were you?" Derek asked.

 

"About seven, probably. Dad didn't let me start cooking for myself until I was nine, and tall enough to see the top of the stove, but after mum... after I was six, I had my own little table and got everything ready; he just had to put it in pots for me. Had my own kiddie knife that was blunt as fuck, too," Stiles said, shaking his head. "I wasn't allowed anything sharp until I was 10, but I got past the childproof lock on the drawers when that damn knife refused to cut through soft butter. Almost sliced my hand open with a real knife, but I managed to work out the weight soon enough."

 

"Didn't your dad notice?"

 

"Probably, but I think he'd given up on telling me what to do by that point. I didn't really do anything that irresponsible or stupid; Dad trusted me to make my own mistakes, and I knew I could still go to him if I really fucked up. Tried not to fuck up, 'cause parental disappointment is the worst thing ever, but shit happens."

 

Derek turned away from the stove, tugging Stiles against his chest, and simply held him for a moment.

 

"I think he'd be proud of you."

 

"Yeah, hope so," Stiles murmured, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to let his tears fall. "C'mon, you've got to add the mushrooms now," he said, sniffing and heading over to the sink to wash his hands and face.

 

Derek almost whined at the loss, but instead, made himself turn to the kitchen island. He grabbed the bowl of diced mushrooms and tipped them on top of the vegetables and bacon. (Well, they were kind of diced, they'd practically fallen apart under his knife, and Derek had done his best.)

 

"Give it a stir to mix everything around; you don't want the bottom vegetables burning," Stiles said, going to check the chicken again. "Oh, look at you golden crumbed beauties."

 

Derek grinned at the sound of joy in Stiles' voice, and stirred the vegetables and bacon the best he could. Some of it stuck to the bottom of the pot and he winced, shoving at it with the wooden spoon to move it properly. The green vegetables came away black and he felt his stomach drop at the sight. _He'd ruined it._

 

"Derek? What's wrong?" Stiles asked, looking over to see him hunched over the stove and gripping the pot handle tight enough to leave an impression of his hand behind.

 

"They're black, not green. They're supposed to be green," Derek said, on the verge of panicking because he'd been given _one job_ and he'd managed to ruin that.

 

"Hey, hey, don't worry about it. There's always bound to be a couple things that burn; I forgot to mention the butter, so it's completely my fault. Don't worry, see, all gone," Stiles said, grabbing a fork and spearing the green beans that were blackened. He blew on them to cool them slightly, then stuck them in his mouth and chewed quickly. "Still tastes okay; not the first time I've eaten charcoaled vegetables," he added around his mouthful, grinning broadly.

 

Derek looked into the pot again, trying to see if anything else was burnt.

 

"Hey, big guy, look at me," Stiles said, putting his hand on the one that held the wooden spoon. Derek turned and looked at him reluctantly, and Stiles pressed a firm kiss to his lips. "You're doing great, I promise. A couple of burned veggies isn't the end of the world, okay? Now, turn the stove down and get soy sauce out of the fridge for me. I'll check the rice, and we should be good to serve up in a few minutes."

 

Derek still felt a little awful, but turned the hotplate down and went to the fridge as directed. By the time he returned, Stiles had a small spoon of rice held out for him, and Derek tasted it at his nod of encouragement.

 

"Give it a chew. Can you feel any hard bits in the middle of the grains, or is it soft?"

 

"Soft," he mumbled.

 

"Good, that means you've cooked it perfectly. Now, tip it in the strainer, and shake it out well. It'll clump together a bit, but that's just the water making it sticky. Put the lid on the strainer if you're worried," he added, seeing the look of doubt Derek was giving the pot of rice.

 

Derek handed Stiles the soy sauce and took the pot off the stove, heading over to the strainer. He tipped it in, and tried not to focus on his failure, but instead, the humming sound Stiles was making as he added a dash of soy sauce to the vegetables.

 

"Can you put the rice back in the pot and bring it back over? We'll add the vegetables, mix it in, and I'm pretty sure I saw a lemon in the fridge earlier. Will help with the saltiness of the soy sauce," Stiles explained, smiling at Derek.

 

Determined to make his mate proud, Derek nodded and put the lid on the strainer, holding it in place before shaking firmly. Cloudy drops of water dripped out of the holes, and when he lifted the lid, the rice was white and fluffy. _Okay, he'd made rice on his own. That was a good start. The vegetables weren't a total loss, and he could totally do this_. Derek tipped the rice back into the pot and headed back to Stiles, who tipped the vegetables straight in, handing the wooden spoon back to Derek with a kiss.

 

"Turn the stove off, stir the vegetables into the rice, and I'll check the chicken."

 

Derek checked and double-checked that the stove was off (Peter had almost destroyed the kitchen a few years ago, trying to impress Susan; his father had banned Peter from using their kitchen ever again, though that hadn't stopped Peter from stealing their food over the years), then placed the pot on the element that wasn't hot and stirred it through, trying to make everything evenly placed.

 

"Okay, chickens are done and looking gorgeous, if I do say so myself," Stiles said, grinning. "I think they're stirred enough, big guy," he added. "Nice proportion of the veggies, though. I can never get mine to look that nice, it just looks lumped together."

 

Derek flushed at the praise, realising that he hadn't even heard a lie in Stiles' heartbeat.

 

"Where are the plates?" Stiles asked, ducking around Derek to empty the pot of spinach.

 

"I'll get them," he offered, hurrying over to the drawer of plates.

 

Derek was in such a rush to please and provide that he knocked the tray of chicken kiev. Eyes wide, he grabbed the tray to stop it from falling, barely managing to get it on the kitchen island properly before he let loose a howl of pain.

 

"Derek, are you okay? What happened? Holy... Oh, shit. C'mere, fuck. That's gotta hurt. Here, it's all right. You'll be okay," Stiles said, semi-comforting words spilling out of him as he pulled Derek over to the sink and ran cold water over the already-healing burn.

 

"It's healed now; it was just a surprise. Forgot it'd be hot," he admitted with a blush.

 

Stiles grinned and nudged him with his shoulder. "I've done the same thing. 'Course, couple of my burns are still there; see this one?" he said, indicating to a browned line on the back of his hand. "Forgot that the oven racks are just as hot as the trays," he snickered.

 

"It's any wonder you were allowed back in the kitchen," Derek murmured, thumb stroking the line softly.

 

Stiles' grin faded and he shrugged. "Necessity overrides common sense, I guess. You were going to show me where the plates are?"

 

Derek felt that he'd said something wrong and let go of Stiles quickly, feeling like he'd been burned all over again, and headed over to the dish drawer.

 

"Ah, fuck. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get stand-offish, it's just... I never had all this, y'know? A huge family and people to look after me. I had my dad and I had Scott, and then, I no longer had Scott, and I've no longer got my dad, and it's hard sometimes. I'm trying hard not to be a wreck 'cause you deserve more, we both do, but sometimes I just think of things, or get reminded of things, and it _hurts_. Hurts more than any dumb scar I've gotten over the years, and fuck... This was good, right? _We_ were good, right up until I ruined it," Stiles said with a sour laugh. "As usual, fuck, I can't believe how fucking stupid I am. Just... can you serve up? I need some air."

 

Derek watched as Stiles headed out the back door, eyes wide in surprise at Stiles' sudden monologue, and then looked between the food gathered across the kitchen and the back door. Shaking his head, Derek headed over to the kitchen door and opened it to find his mother standing there, looking a little concerned.

 

"We heard you howling, is everything okay in there?" she asked, a bit too innocently.

 

If they'd heard him howl, that meant he'd accidentally tripped the seal around the kitchen, and he had no idea how much of Stiles' monologue they'd all heard.

 

"I didn't hear much," Talia promised.

 

"Can you serve up dinner, please? I need to talk to Stiles," Derek said.

 

"Go," she said, squeezing his shoulder gently.

 

"Thanks. No spinach for me, please," he added over his shoulder, running out of the back door quickly.

 

It didn't take him long to find Stiles, sitting by the stack of freshly-chopped firewood from that morning, and Derek slowed when he heard him sniffling.

 

"Stiles? Can I sit with you?"

 

"It's a free wood pile, go ahead," Stiles muttered.

 

Derek sat nearby, wanting nothing more than to pull Stiles into his arms and hug him until he felt better again.

 

"You didn't ruin anything," Derek said quietly. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what it must have been like to not grow up with this sort of family. I didn't mean to bring up anything that would hurt you, I've _never_ wanted to hurt you. I just forget sometimes, what all of you sacrifices are actually sacrificing, what you've _already_ sacrificed, and I probably sound like a heartless bastard with a lot of what I say. I just... You already feel like family to me, and I want you to be happy, but I know it's not going to happen magically overnight. Like you've said, we'll work through it, together. I want to work through things with you, even if it hurts us, 'cause we'll be stronger when it's done, right?"

 

Stiles wiped at his eyes, sniffling again. "Right. I... You really are good at the words thing. You don't give yourself enough credit," he murmured.

 

"Always thought of myself as more a physical person, really."

 

"You wanna hug this out?" Stiles asked, getting an eager nod in return.

 

Stiles shifted until he was right next to Derek, then turned and hugged him. It was an awkward position to say the least, but it was better than nothing, and Derek tightened his hold briefly, wishing that his sudden wordsmith ability would extend to express his actual feelings.

 

"Your dad's not serving dinner, is he? It's meant to be a surprise," Stiles said suddenly.

 

"Mum is, she was outside the door. I accidentally set off the seal in the kitchen when I burned my hand."

 

"Oh... Did everyone hear what I said then?"

 

"I don't think so. Even if they did, they should keep quiet about it. If Peter doesn't, I'll rip his throat out with my teeth," Derek growled.

 

"Whoa, calm down there, big guy... Though, seriously? Going from everyone to singling out Peter in a single breath? Kinda funny," Stiles snickered, nudging at him.

 

Derek shrugged, knowing his uncle far too well. He stood up and helped Stiles to his feet, then wrapped his arms around him firmly, properly, and his wolf stopped pacing anxiously as he breathed in Stiles' scent and the sour smell of sadness and tears. By the time they pulled away a few minutes later, Stiles smelled a little better, and Derek was so pleased that he could make his mate happy, even if it was just an ounce.

 

"All right, let's go see what the verdict is on our meal. Will we survive the first round of The Greatest Chef?"

 

"What's The Greatest Chef?"

 

"You mean you don't watch crappy reality cooking shows? Oh, we're going to watch the next episode on TV; you are in for a _treat_ ," he said with a broad grin, but his accompanying cackle made Derek seriously doubt his words.

 

"Glad you're both better now; care to help me serve these lovely dishes?" Talia asked, nodding to the plates on the bench.

 

She'd presented the meal in a much nicer way than Stiles would have thought to do, and Derek was surprised at his mother's artistic culinary ability, though he tried not to show it too much. Talia had even stacked the pots and pans aside so nothing would get in the way of the twelve meals on the kitchen island.

 

"I left the spinach off your plate Derek, as requested. I figured there was enough green on the plate to give you leeway for one night," Talia added, smiling at Derek.

 

"Thanks," he said gratefully.

 

Stiles grabbed two plates and headed to the kitchen door. "I've got yours and Frank's, Talia. Derek, Peter and Susan's are next. If you can bring Tommy, Robbie, and Cora's at the same time, Talia, it'll help get them settled while Derek and I come back for the rest."

 

"Of course," Talia said, relinquishing authority to the chef with a smile. "Stiles certainly knows how to control a situation, doesn't he?" she murmured, raising an eyebrow at Derek in amusement.

 

"Mum," he whined, cheeks and ears pink.

 

She stifled a laugh and nodded to the plates. "Well, you heard your mate. Grab the plates for Peter and Susan."

 

Derek looked torn between horrified and embarrassed, but grabbed the plates and hurried out after Stiles. When she was sure the door was closed, Talia had a good laugh to herself before she arranged the plates for the three youngsters and headed out after the two young men.

 

Dinner was served in under five minutes, and Derek gripped Stiles' hand as he watched his family take their first bite. A few started with the chicken, others with the mix of rice and vegetables; _oh fuck, what if he'd ruined it completely and there were more burnt bits than he'd seen?_

 

"This is really good, son," Frank said, obviously trying not to sound as surprised as he felt.

 

Others echoed the sentiment in their own ways; Talia agreeing vocally, Peter raising his fork in salute, Susan smiling, Erica refusing to look up as she practically inhaled her meal, Boyd giving a quick nod, Isaac smiling broadly. Stiles squeezed his hand firmly before he took up his knife and fork to start eating as well.

 

"Best rice and vegetables I've ever had," Stiles said a few minutes later, the words soft, but still picked up on by the rest of the table easily enough.

 

Derek didn't hear a stutter in his heartbeat and ducked his head at the praise, cheeks red yet again. Across the table, Talia nudged her brother sharply in the ribs when Peter gave an amused chuckle. Derek didn't even care.

 

Barely half an hour passed before everyone finished eating. Peter wiped his mouth on a napkin, then grinned at Stiles. "It was a lovely meal; worthy of a pack mother, if I do say so."

 

"What's a pack mother?" Stiles asked, frowning.

 

"Well, Frankie's our pack mother at the moment, so you'd best ask him," Peter replied, nodding to his brother-in-law.

 

"It means I look after the pack's basic needs and requirements: food, exercise, shoulder to cry on, caring for each and everyone to the best of my ability. Even Peter," Frank added with a slight smirk. "The mother part of the title is somewhat stereotypical since it's meant to be in a woman's nature to nurture, but I'm not the first male who's taken the title in any of the packs we've met, and I'm certainly not going to be the last; Peter's just trying to be... mean," he finished, falling flat when he saw the intent gaze his nephews had on him. "Of course, just because husbands or men have the title, it doesn't mean that their wives aren't caring or nurturing, it's just a title. It's one I'm more than willing to pass on if it means we keep getting fed like that," Frank added, chuckling.

 

"I don't think Peter's quite ready for that title yet, he's already admitted that he burns toast; I'd hate to see what he'd do to a full meal," Stiles said, smirking when Susan laughed and Peter gave a half-hearted glare.

 

"Oh, stop being such a sour-puss, Peter. You were being _mean_ , and we all know it. Don't act that way in front of your children. Or anywhere else; we're trying to set a good example for them, remember?" Susan pointed out.

 

"Yes, dear, I remember. Now, let's get these little over-fed monsters home before they fall asleep where they sit," Peter said, picking Robbie and Tommy up and kissing them both soundly on their cheeks. "You know that your daddy wasn't being mean, don't you?"

 

Very solemnly, they both shook their heads.

 

"Double negative, does that mean they do or don't agree?" Stiles whispered to Derek, who stifled a laugh, grinning at him.

 

"Thank you for the meal, boys. Do let me know when Stiles joins you again to cook, Derek."

 

"Does this mean you'll actually be cooking your own dinner until further notice then, Peter?" Frank called after him, Peter whistling and pretending to ignore his question.

 

"Every week, you two go through the same thing. When will you accept that my husband is a freeloader when food's involved?" Susan asked, grinning at Frank.

 

"The same day he admits to it, _señora_ ," he replied, winking at her.

 

Susan shook her head and kissed the top of Frank's head on her way out.

 

"I've got to read to them," Boyd said quietly, slipping out after them.

 

"Erica set the table, does that mean I'm on dishes again?" Isaac asked, looking between Frank and Talia.

 

"We'll do them tonight; you all go and relax. Derek, why don't you show Stiles where the TV is?" Talia suggested, wiping a few stray grains of rice off Cora's face.

 

"All right. Thanks," Derek said, leading Stiles and the two betas out and down to the den.

 

"If my watch is right, The Greatest Chef should be on in about ten minutes."

 

"Oh, did you see last week's episode? That woman used so much paprika, I could practically smell it through the screen!" Erica bemoaned.

 

"Fish and paprika is a tricky combination, and she completely _ruined it_ ," Isaac agreed, shaking his head.

 

"Nah, I missed that episode. Anyone have to leave?" Stiles asked casually.

 

Derek took Stiles' hand and squeezed it gently. If it was only a week ago, then Stiles would have been mourning his father's death that day, maybe even setting up the traps throughout his house. Stiles gave him a quick smile and when Derek sat at the far end of the lounge, trying to offer his mate some room if he needed it, Stiles claimed the seat next to him without a word.

 

Erica raised her eyebrows at Derek with a curious grin, but he ignored her and offered the TV remote to Stiles instead. Erica and Isaac had a brief fight over who would get to sit on the other side of Stiles, and a few minutes later, Erica retracted her claws and sat next to Stiles with a triumphant grin. Isaac gave a soft whine, only stopping his sad noise after Stiles tugged him to the floor in front of him, the curly haired boy settled between his legs comfortably.

 

"You'd make a good pack mother, Stiles," Isaac murmured, rubbing his cheek against Stiles' knee comfortingly.

 

"You think so?" he asked quietly, all three nodding in agreement.

 

Stiles smiled softly and took Derek's hand in his own, threading their fingers together as Erica rested her head against Stiles' shoulder. Derek made himself relax, and gently stroked the back of Stiles' hand with his thumb as they watched TV together. Erica snorted at one man's dish, Isaac made a scathing comment about the presentation of another's, then Stiles laughed at the phallic-resembling dish that obviously made the judges' uncomfortable. Boyd returned halfway through the show, sitting next to Isaac without a word, and he chuckled softly at the things Stiles, Isaac, and Erica mentioned. Derek listened to their commentary more than the show itself, and found that he enjoyed himself even more than he thought he would. He was almost disappointed when the episode ended.

 

"It's almost 10:30. We've got to get to bed," Isaac said reluctantly, standing.

 

"Huh? Why?" Stiles asked with a frown.

 

"School tomorrow," Boyd reminded him.

 

"But you're homeschooled; don't you get to start later?" Stiles asked.

 

"We wish," Erica muttered.

 

Isaac shrugged, darting in to give Stiles a hug before hurrying upstairs. Erica lingered a bit, sniffing at his neck before taking Boyd's hand and heading up to their rooms as well. Derek immediately wanted to cover her scent with his own, but he resisted because it was just as important for the rest of the pack to scent Stiles as it was for him. He knew this logically, but he still wanted to back Stiles against the closest surface and cover him completely.

 

"Guess we'd better get to bed then," Stiles said, going upstairs with Derek following closely.

 

They were both quiet as they gathered their clothes (Frank had hung out the laundry earlier in the day and all of Stiles' clothes were folded neatly on top of the bed) to change into their pyjamas. Stiles headed into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth, and Derek pulled his clothes off and changed as fast as possible.

 

"Kinda disappointed; I'd hoped my blue and orange shirt might've come with the rest of the clothes, but it must've been left behind. Thing was my favourite," Stiles said with a little smile and shrug.

 

Derek looked at his pillow guiltily, and pulled it over, reluctantly taking out the shirt and offering it to Stiles.

 

"You... slept with my shirt in your pillow?" Stiles asked, head cocked to the side in obvious confusion.

 

Derek blushed brightly and nodded. "Smelled like you the most," he admitted quietly.

 

"Oh. Yeah, I can see that. I... Uh, you can keep it, if you like?"

 

"But it's your favourite."

 

"Yeah, I know. I can, uh, wear it in here, if you like? Help with the scent thing? I know it can wear off. Well, I'd assume that it would 'cause - "

 

His words were cut off by Derek kissing him, eagerly and firmly, and Stiles relaxed against his mouth and body, eyes closing as he kissed him in return.

 

"Thank you," Derek breathed softly, nuzzling at Stiles' neck.

 

"You're welcome, big guy. Let's get to bed; need to be up bright and early for school."

 

"I know. It's not that bad," Derek said with a slight shrug.

 

"I'll leave my verdict for tomorrow afternoon," Stiles said, grinning back at him.

 

Stiles lay down on the bed, wriggling down under the blanket and leaving his hand free for Derek to hold again. Smiling broadly, Derek moved the recliner close to the bed again, and settled down to sleep, holding Stiles' hand gently.

 

"Hey, Derek? Tell me something true," Stiles murmured through a yawn, his fingers slipping down to his wrist.

 

"I'm sorry about your father, but I'm glad you're here with me," Derek admitted softly. "Your turn."

 

Stiles' hand slipped back up to hold Derek's again, and for a long moment, he didn't reply. Then, in the darkness, Derek heard Stiles lick his lips and he went completely still, waiting for Stiles' reply.

 

"So am I."

 

...

 

End of eighth chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles woke up to find Derek half on the bed, half on the recliner. His eyes widened at the sight, and Stiles quickly pulled Derek over onto the bed completely so he wouldn't fall between the gap. Derek woke up with the movement, but didn't open his eyes, choosing instead to nuzzle his face into the crook of Stiles' neck.

 

"Uh, hey, big guy."

 

Derek pulled away slowly, eyebrows bunching together as he tried to determine just what was wrong with the way he'd woken up. A look of comprehension filled his face a few seconds later and Derek scrambled back towards the end of the bed, eyes wide.

 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't... I didn't do anything, did I?"

 

"Whoa, calm down. _Breathe_ ," Stiles said, surprised at Derek's rush of words. "You didn't do anything, I pulled you onto the bed so you wouldn't fall. You were between the bed and the recliner," he said, waiting until Derek had calmed before continuing. "The ... uh, nuzzling was something new though."

 

Derek's cheeks went pink, but he couldn't seem to meet Stiles' gaze. There was a firm pounding at the door, and a second later Erica called them both downstairs for breakfast. Derek hurried into the ensuite without a word, and Stiles stared after him, not sure how to react.

 

By the time Derek returned, towel wrapped around his body and a thick cloud of steam following him out of the bathroom, Stiles had readied his clothes for his own shower and decided on his response. Before Derek could slip away or try to ignore the situation, Stiles stepped up and kissed him chastely on the lips.

 

"I never said the nuzzling was a bad thing, big guy. When we've got more time, we can do it again sometime," Stiles added with a grin.

 

Derek smiled back at him a little shyly, his ears tinged pink, and Stiles went into the ensuite, his clothes bundled in his arms. Showered, dried, and dressed ten minutes later, Stiles went back into the bedroom to find Derek clothed and sitting on the bed.

 

"You okay?"

 

Derek nodded, and before Stiles could ask another question, Derek was up and in front of him in a second. He hugged Stiles before he could react, face buried in the crook of his shoulder. A knock at the door had them pulling apart, Derek looking pleased with himself.

 

"Breakfast is getting cold. Erica says she'll eat yours if you don't come downstairs in the next thirty seconds," Isaac informed them.

 

Derek winced. "We'd better hurry, Erica's done that before."

 

Stiles took Derek's hand and they headed downstairs together.

 

...

 

School for werewolves was mostly similar to school for non-werewolves. Stiles was surprised to see Derek following him and the three younger werewolves into the library, but Talia soon handed her son a stack of university textbooks, and Stiles winced in sympathy. Over the next few hours, Talia taught English, Frank taught Spanish, and Stiles tried not to set himself on fire in Science (it had happened once before; there was a bunsen burner involved, and in hindsight, Stiles should have been suspicious that _Jackson_ had willingly offered to be his lab partner. He hadn't made the same mistake again). After their hour of Science, Talia handed out algebra textbooks, Erica groaning into the crook of her arm, her blonde curls spilling over the desk. Stiles agreed with her response completely and utterly.

 

"How come Cora gets to finger paint?" Stiles muttered as he worked on the tasks set out in his algebra textbook.

 

"Cora is _claw_ painting; it's to help her control her shift without putting anyone in danger," Talia replied, eyebrow arched as she looked down at the lines of highlighted text in the book.

 

"It helps me think," Stiles said sheepishly.

 

"Since it's not simply vandalism, that's fine; do you need more colours?" Talia offered.

 

Stiles nodded quickly; the pink was starting to run out.

 

"Derek, show Stiles where the stationery cupboard is, please," Talia called.

 

"This way," Derek said, standing and heading out of the library.

 

Stiles scrambled to get up and follow him, wondering at Derek's sudden departure. He caught up in a few seconds, Derek standing by what Stiles had originally thought to be a linen cupboard.

 

"You all right?" Stiles asked, frowning.

 

Derek didn't answer verbally, instead he tugged Stiles so that he was pressed firmly against his chest, wrapped his arms around him and breathed in his scent, his face pressed against the curve of Stiles' neck. Stiles felt himself relax, and he squirmed until he could wrap his arms around Derek's body properly.

 

"Driving me crazy in there. I can smell you, hear you, but I can't _touch_ you," Derek muttered, voice so low that Stiles doubted the others would hear.

 

"Why are you sitting so far away then?" Stiles asked.

 

"Have to concentrate. I'd be worse if I was sitting next to you, I'm sure of it. Then I'd never stop touching you," Derek admitted, dragging his nose up Stiles' neck and jawline.

 

Stiles wasn't entirely sure why that was a bad thing. Derek pulled away reluctantly a moment later, sighing softly.

 

"We have to go back. How many highlighters do you want?" Derek asked, opening the cupboard doors.

 

Stiles stared at what had to be the equivalent of a craft and stationery heaven. Various tapes, spools of ribbons, papers of all colours and shapes, pens in every colour he could imagine, markers and highlighters just as varied, and that was just on the two shelves he could see.

 

"Are you all right?" Derek asked, sounding concerned as he looked back at Stiles.

 

"I think I want to climb inside that cupboard and never get out again," Stiles admitted.

 

Derek looked torn between concerned and amused, but he stepped back and gestured to the open doors. "Take whatever you want. So long as it's used, Mum doesn't mind if anyone takes them. Just don't take it so no one else can use it, that's how Laura lost her ribbon privileges."

 

"Your older sister?" Stiles asked, stepping forward and rifling through the selection of highlighters.

 

"Yeah. You want all of those?" Derek asked, seeing the selection Stiles had collected once he stepped back.

 

"Yep! Green is for the things I understand, blue is for things I need help with, and pink is to re-read when I can focus better. I've gotta be in the right mind-set or it just goes in one ear and out the other," Stiles admitted.

 

"I know the feeling," Derek said with a quick grin, closing the cupboard doors and heading back to the library, his shoulder brushing against Stiles'.

 

...

 

After lunch, and praising the varied assortment of sandwiches that Frank had made for them all, Stiles discovered that school for werewolves was actually very different to school for non-werewolves. Physical Education didn't involve running laps or playing sports, it involved hunting things in the woods. Since he wasn't a werewolf, and still banned from entering the forest, Stiles was left in Frank and Susan's care to do his own human version of Phys. Ed. Frank sat on the front steps with Cora beside him, and Robbie and Tommy were asleep on either side of Susan as she rocked on the porch swing gently. 

 

Stiles watched curiously as the others shifted to their werewolf forms. Talia was the only one who was actually a wolf, while Erica, Boyd, and Isaac looking like humanoid versions of hairy and clawed wolves. Derek shifted along with them, and while Stiles might be biased, he thought that Derek's shift was much smoother than the others. Talia let out a howl and leapt into the forest, the other three running after her. Derek gave Stiles one last look over his shoulder and then followed.

 

Frank scooped Cora off the front steps and gave a growl, his eyes flashing and fangs showing. Cora grinned, then growled back as well, paint-covered claws showing and tiny fangs that Stiles would never call _cute_ within hearing distance.

 

"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" Frank asked, putting Cora up onto his shoulders and going inside, ducking beneath the doorframe easily.

 

"What sort of Phys. Ed. do I have to do?" Stiles asked Susan.

 

Susan grinned back at him conspiratorially. "Do whatever you want to do; I won't tell if you won't."

 

"You're my new favourite lady," Stiles replied, holding his hand up for a high-five.

 

Susan laughed and gave him a solid high-five in return, Robbie stirring at the noise but drifting back to sleep a moment later. Stiles headed inside, making sure to shut the door behind him quietly so he wouldn't wake the twins, and grinned slightly when he heard Cora's peals of laughter from upstairs with Frank giving small growls and roars as he imitated a bath monster. Deciding to stick to the lower floor for now, Stiles wandered into the kitchen.

 

Derek had already organised something for dinner and mince was thawing on the bench, wrapped in butcher's paper. He'd refused to tell anyone what he was making, and after their success the night before, Derek seemed confident enough in his ability to cook so he didn't even want Stiles in the kitchen with him. Erica seemed to think it was a recipe for disaster, and Isaac had looked a little concerned, promptly deciding on a third round of breakfast.

 

Stiles was tempted to look in the pantry, to try to guess what Derek might be making, but he left again, heading down towards the den. After intruding on Cora and Derek's tea party, Stiles had gone straight back upstairs, and now that he had more time, he could see that he'd missed a door in his earlier exploration. It was tucked by the den, and opening the door, Stiles was surprised to find a gym inside.

 

He definitely wasn't the most athletic person in the world (he had not-so-fond memories of being called ' _pathetic not athletic_ ' by Mr. Harrison; he didn't even teach Phys. Ed., so Stiles figured he was just hoping to get a rise out of him), but he did like to keep fit. Before becoming a sacrifice, Stiles had wanted to join his father on the police force and as there were strict health and athletic requirements, he'd tried to keep himself in shape the best he could. Looking down, Stiles figured his clothes could stand to get a little sweaty, and headed over to the treadmill to get started with his workout.

 

...

 

Derek rolled his shoulders, then his neck as he followed the others out of the forest. They'd had a really good run; he'd chased three squirrels and a rabbit, sniffed out a fox's den, and had ensured that the border between town and their land was free of traps. It was a new addition to their usual run, something his mother had insisted was simply for practice, but Derek doubted it.

 

He sniffed at his shirt, wincing slightly as he thought of how Stiles would probably be disgusted by the amount of sweat that he was covered in, and decided to have a shower straight away.

 

"It seems Stiles has found the gym," Talia said with a slight grin, nodding towards the front door.

 

Derek stopped and listened intently, hearing Stiles' puffs of breath, the heavy tread of his feet, the whirring of the treadmill. He didn't want to admit that he'd missed the sounds for himself, he should have been more alert to his surroundings, so Derek just nodded and hurried into the house, heading straight to the gym.

 

Slowing as he approached the gym, Derek knocked on the door. Frowning when he didn't hear an answer, he opened the door cautiously and looked inside. Stiles was on the treadmill, staring straight ahead, his feet falling in time with his breathing, and he was covered in a layer of sweat that drenched his shirt. Derek went to say something, but then the smell hit him, Stiles' very own scent multiplied and far more pungent thanks to his workout. Derek closed and locked the door behind him immediately, wanting to keep that scent all to himself, to keep Stiles like _this_ all to himself.

 

Stiles looked over when the door closed, his steps faltering when he saw Derek there, and he stumbled a bit before catching himself. Derek watched as Stiles moved to stand on the edges of the treadmill carefully and turned the machine off before stepping off, his legs wobbly.

 

"Oh, god, look at this; I must stink," Stiles muttered, pulling his the material of sweaty shirt away from his chest and stomach with a wince.

 

"Good. S'good," Derek slurred, taking in a deep breath even as he tried to hold both himself and his wolf back from just burying his face against Stiles' torso.

 

Stiles frowned at Derek's response, then looked up at him, saw his expression and grinned a little instead. "You like that, do you?"

 

Derek nodded eagerly.

 

Stiles grinned outright then, splaying his arms to either side. "Go on, then, big guy."

 

Derek didn't need to be told twice, and within a second he had his face pressed against Stiles' neck, breathing in his scent deeply. Stiles shivered at the stubble that grazed against his skin, and gripped Derek's shoulders firmly as he breathed in. Derek's hands slipped under Stiles' sweat-soaked shirt, his fingers rubbing against the lines of sweat that trekked down his body. Stiles kind of blacked out then, Derek's hands travelling south and _fast_ , and he only vaguely heard Erica call out something.

 

Derek pulled away from Stiles abruptly, a snarl accompanying his fangs as he glowered at the door and Erica's teasing words - ' _the gym isn't sound-proofed; keep 'em in your pants, boys!_ ' Erica heard his growl, but just laughed in response. Derek was torn between wanting to chase her and make her apologise, and returning his attention and senses to Stiles' body. He turned back to Stiles after one more growl, only to find Stiles red-faced and leaking arousal.

 

"You're, uh, very good with your hands," Stiles murmured.

 

Derek realised that he'd been caressing Stiles this whole time, his thumbs stroking against his hips gently, fingers splayed across his lower back. He was dangerously close to tugging off Stiles' sweatpants, and Derek stroked with more purpose this time, his thumbs sweeping below the material completely. Stiles whimpered softly, and Derek thought about Erica's words. Though she'd meant it to tease, she had told the truth: the gym wasn't sound-proofed like the bedrooms and kitchen were. Derek didn't want anyone else to hear Stiles' little noises, not when those sounds were meant for him alone.

 

"Are you okay if we go upstairs?" Derek asked, voice soft.

 

Stiles nodded eagerly. "So totally okay with that."

 

"Can I carry you?" Derek asked, his hand soft as he swept his palm along Stiles' sweaty ribs.

 

Again, Stiles nodded. Derek was pleased with his response, even as he tried to figure out the best way to carry him. Bridal style meant possibly knocking Stiles' head on doorways, fireman style invited too many taunting remarks, and piggy-backing was something he still did with Cora. Standing in front of Stiles, Derek picked him up easily, careful of his strength, and then nodded. Stiles laughed against his ear, his breath warm on his skin, and Derek tightened his grip and didn't look back.

 

The next few seconds were a blur to Stiles. One second he was in the gym, wrapping around Derek's body like an octopus, and the next second they were upstairs in Derek's room. He hadn't even had time to blink. Derek was gentle as he placed Stiles on the bed, locking his bedroom door and climbing up onto the bed half a second later. Stiles leaned up on his elbows and grinned.

 

"You really like this, huh, big guy?"

 

Derek nodded firmly, almost knocking their heads together. "Smells good. Clean sweat. You'd smell like this after sex," he murmured, still feeling a little overwhelmed by Stiles' scent and not thinking clearly.

 

Stiles shook his head and pressed a chaste kiss to Derek's mouth. "I'd smell like _us_ after sex, wouldn't I?"

 

" _Yes_ ," Derek growled. He practically flattened himself on top of Stiles, rubbing their sweaty bodies together; they'd smell _perfect_ together.

 

He breathed in to find that it wasn't quite perfect, not yet, but it was as close to it as he'd ever experienced before. Derek's wolf was sated at the smell, curling up contently. Derek didn't dare move, not when it usually took him hours to calm his wolf after a run, and lay there with Stiles still pinned beneath him.

 

"You okay there, big guy?" Stiles asked.

 

Derek nodded briefly, rubbing his cheek against Stiles', nuzzling and making a purring sound that he'd deny to his dying day. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's middle and closed his eyes to sleep.

 

"Wake me up if you want help with dinner, okay?" Stiles murmured.

 

Derek just nodded in response, pressing his nose against the curve of Stiles' neck once more, and drifting off to sleep.

 

...

 

Derek woke to the sound of frantic knocking on his door, and he looked down at Stiles, who was drooling a little on his pillow and had red lines and marks from his shirt on his skin. Since there didn't seem to be anything _completely_ wrong, he stood off the bed slowly and went to answer the door, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Stiles.

 

"Talia says you have to cook dinner, or Peter's going to eat everything in the pantry," Isaac said, chewing his way through a large packet of chips.

 

"You'd better stop eating or you'll ruin your appetite," Derek said.

 

Isaac just shrugged. He didn't give Derek a chance to say anything else, hurrying back downstairs. Derek shut his door and looked back to Stiles to see him waking up with a broad yawn and stretch that looked almost obscene.

 

"Going to make dinner now?" Stiles asked sleepily, mid-way through his yawn.

 

"Yeah. You can go back to sleep; I'll be all right," Derek said.

 

"Mmkay," Stiles replied, sinking back onto the mattress and curling up around Derek's pillow without a word of protest.

 

Showering and getting dressed as fast as possible, Derek headed downstairs to start on dinner. He'd helped make dinner last night, it had been a total success, and he so totally had this.

 

...

 

Half an hour later, Derek had to admit that he definitely did _not_ totally have this. _At all_. In fact, he was pretty sure that the mince was meant to be brown not black ... or smoking. He took the lid off the spaghetti noodles with trepidation, and groaned when he saw that the water had all disappeared, the noodles soggy and sticking to the bottom of the pot. He didn't even want to consider what had happened to the vegetables. There was a knock at the kitchen door, and Derek hurried to replace the lids on the pots.

 

"I'm not letting you in again, Isaac, you've eaten half of the pantry already," Derek said as he opened the door. "Stiles, uh. Hi. You're awake."

 

"Yeah. I wanted to see how you were doing," Stiles said with a broad smile.

 

Derek tried not to look crestfallen or give away that he had ruined everything completely, but there must have been something on his face because Stiles gave him a sympathetic look, and nodded towards the kitchen behind him.

 

"Can I help?" Stiles asked.

 

Derek hung his head and nodded, stepping back to let Stiles in. He slipped in and shut the door behind him quickly.

 

"What were you planning on making?" Stiles asked curiously.

 

"Spaghetti. It... It's not gone as planned," Derek admitted quietly.

 

"Noodles or mince?"

 

"Both."

 

"And the third pot?"

 

"Vegetables. I haven't looked at them yet."

 

Stiles nodded, then patted Derek's chest lightly and headed over to the stove. He looked in each pot in turn, not even wincing when smoke billowed out.

 

"Do you mind if we do something other than spaghetti?" Stiles asked, looking over to him.

 

Derek shook his head quickly. "If you can save any of it, I don't care what we do."

 

"Well, unfortunately, the spaghetti noodles are a bust, and so's the mince. There's very little that will mask the taste of charcoal for humans, and I wouldn't want to put the pack through that either. The vegetables are great though, you've got a knack for them," Stiles said with a broad smile, and though he was listening carefully, Derek couldn't detect a lie.

 

"How are we going to feed everyone with vegetables alone? I might be hung and lynched."

 

Stiles spluttered with laughter, and Derek was positive he heard him say something about him being hung already, and blushed brightly in response.

 

"I remember there being spiral pasta in the pantry, we'll add that to the vegetables and make a pasta bake. Everyone will just have to wait a little bit longer," Stiles said firmly, then he snickered. "I think Isaac might be regretting eating half of the pantry though, he didn't look well a few minutes ago."

 

Derek frowned slightly, but he couldn't really blame Isaac for gorging instead of eating what he cooked; the proof of his inability to cook was being tipped into the bin, after all.

 

"Don't look so down, Derek, you're still learning. I'm going to guess you decided to cut up the vegetables while the pasta and meat were cooking?"

 

Derek nodded. "The instructions said to cut everything up while they were on the stove," he said, glaring at the offending cookbook.

 

"Then we've just got to work on your timing. It's easy for instructions to say things like that, when the people that write them have been cooking in kitchens for years and can cut everything up in a minute flat. It's different when you're the one cooking, though. I like to have everything cut and prepared before I even turn the stove or oven on."

 

"But how do you know when to put things in, then?"

 

"Preparation time is usually a good indicator for how long the author thinks ovens need to be preheated for, and the rest of it is experience. Vegetables usually go last 'cause they're small and don't need as much time to heat up. Pasta and rice takes fifteen minutes to absorb and expand properly, and meats vary depending on what's being cooked. I'll teach you everything I know, and by the end of this punishment, I bet you'll want to cook for everyone," Stiles added, grinning.

 

"So... You'll be Yoda, and I'll be Luke Skywalker?" Derek asked.

 

Stiles almost dropped the pot he was filling at the sink, and grinned so wide that Derek feared for his face. "You've seen _Star Wars_?"

 

"Who hasn't?" Derek asked, legitimately confused at the question.

 

"Scott, Jackson, Lydia, to name a few of my many classmates," Stiles said, rolling his eyes, and concentrating on the pot again. When it was halfway full, he returned the pot to the stove and took the jar of pasta from Derek's hands.

 

"We own the DVDs, if you want to watch them on the weekend?" Derek offered.

 

"Hell yes," Stiles said eagerly, doing a little dance, then grinned over at Derek and motioned him over. "Come on, Mr. Chef, you're meant to be cooking."

 

Derek hesitated, not wanting to ruin yet another thing tonight, but Stiles held out his hand expectantly, and he couldn't resist his mate. Derek walked over carefully, positive that his mere presence would make the pasta spirals jump out of the pot and run away screaming.

 

"All right, you're in front of the stove, that's step one complete, young Padawan," Stiles said, pressing a kiss to Derek's cheek.

 

He grinned and decided that Stiles' teaching methods were going to be a _wonderful_ source of inspiration and motivation to him.

 

...

 

"Finally! I thought we were going to starve tonight!" Erica exclaimed when Derek and Stiles arrived in the dining room, Derek carrying a very large porcelain dish with their dinner, and Stiles carrying the bowls.

 

"Not cool, Erica!" Stiles snapped with a glare.

 

Erica reddened and looked down at her placemat contritely. "Sorry."

 

Talia pursed her lips briefly, then looked to the dish and smiled up at her son. "What have you cooked for us tonight, Derek?"

 

"Pasta bake," Derek said quickly, cheeks red. "I was going to do spaghetti, but... it didn't work out."

 

"Well, then I look forward to the pasta bake," Talia said with a warm smile.

 

The dish was set down, everyone looking at the cheese still warm and bubbling on top of the pasta, and Derek served their meals, scooping large portions into the bowls for Stiles to pass around. Peter, Susan, and the twins had decided to eat on their own when Peter had discovered earlier in the day that Derek refused help, so there were remarkably fewer remarks about the lack of meat than there might have been otherwise. Overall, the praise wasn't quite on par with the previous night's, but Derek kept his free hand curled around Stiles' leg, and his warmth and steady heartbeat kept him grounded for the rest of the meal.

 

Isaac left half of his meal, looking somewhat bloated as he excused himself to go sleep off his day's worth of food. Derek murmured that he'd asked Stiles to help him cook dinner until he was better at cooking, not just confident, and Isaac gave a brief nod before he left. Boyd offered to clear the dishes, Frank helping him clean up while Talia cleaned Cora, a task in itself. Erica hung back, not looking Derek or Stiles in the eye, and waited until they'd both finished eating their meals to apologise properly.

 

"Sorry about before. I was hungry and irritable. I didn't mean it," Erica said quietly.

 

"It's all right, Erica. I guess it did take a while to cook everything properly tonight," Derek admitted, pulling her in for a hug.

 

She clung on to him firmly, and Stiles could see her shoulders lose some of their tension.

 

"Hey, Stiles. Want to watch TV?" Boyd asked from the doorway, dishes finally cleared and put in the dishwasher.

 

"Yeah, sure. Anything you want to watch?"

 

"Boyd would watch infomercials if we let him," Erica piped up, grinning at her boyfriend.

 

He shrugged in return, and led the way down to the lounge room, taking the remote to turn on the television. Stiles tugged Derek down onto the lounge next to him and nuzzled up against him, Derek all too happy to wrap an arm around Stiles' shoulders. Boyd sat on the other side of Derek, Erica sitting in his lap and wrapping his arms around her waist.

 

"Twenty bucks says they're showing at least three home renovation shows."

 

"Do you even have twenty bucks, Stiles?" Erica snorted.

 

"Fine, I'll set the table for you tomorrow," Stiles replied.

 

" _No betting on chores, children!_ " Talia called down.

 

"How about a wrestling match?" Erica suggested.

 

"Against me? I'm very breakable, y'know," Stiles said warily.

 

"You can choose your champion," Erica said with a laugh.

 

"You'll wrestle Erica for me, won't you, Derek?" Stiles asked, looking up at him.

 

"Yes, but it's not really a bet if you're not exchanging anything," Derek replied.

 

"There's only two home renovation shows on," Boyd announced.

 

"What? No, what happened to _Location renovation_?" Stiles asked, seeing the program guide on the screen.

 

"Cancelled. One of the locations could only be reached by travelling through the night, and apparently their crew was attacked by wolves."

 

"What? That's stupid!"

 

"Yeah, but the show was stupid to begin with; I think they were losing ratings and just pulled that stunt to get attention," Erica said. "Now, you lost the bet, so Derek's gotta wrestle with me."

 

"Don't break the coffee table again," Boyd said, letting Erica stand from his embrace.

 

Derek sighed and reluctantly stood up when Stiles pulled away from him. He immediately missed Stiles' warmth and presence beside him. Erica moved the coffee table a safe distance away, then tied back her hair in a messy bun.

 

"C'mon, Der-bear, bring it on."

 

"Don't call me that," Derek said through gritted teeth.

 

Erica grinned broadly. "Whatcha gonna do about it, Der-bear?"

 

Instead of rushing at her, Derek stood where he was, bare feet planted firmly on the ground, and breathed in deeply. Erica's eyes flashed yellow, fangs and claws out, and she ran at him, feinting left before trying to pull him down to the floor on the right.

 

Stiles watched with wide eyes as Derek - who hadn't let his fangs or claws out - dodged her claws, barely a breath between Erica's sharp nails and Derek's shirt. Derek spun on his heel, grabbing Erica's arm, his foot in front of her leg, and she let out a yelp as her momentum kept her going, falling to the floor. Derek lowered her down gently, and Erica let out a growl, turning to slash at his arm. Derek pulled back a fraction too slow, long lines of blood clear through his ripped shirt.

 

Stiles tried to get up to help him, but Boyd held him down, his arm as heavy and thick as a bar of metal in front of his chest. In front of his eyes, Stiles saw the blood returning to Derek's arm, the split lines of skin healing almost immediately.

 

"That's one each, last one to determine the winner?" Erica said.

 

"Make it quick, _Zombie vs. Vampire_ is about to start," Boyd said.

 

Erica grinned and ran at Derek again, her hands closing over his shoulders tightly. Derek returned the motion, both of them locked in their position as they tried to kick out the other's leg to make them fall. Derek gripped Erica a little tighter, fingers almost claws, then lifted her off the floor completely. She let out a growl when she realised that she was about to lose again, and struggled to get out of his grip. Derek tightened his hold and pressed Erica down onto the carpet, his body straddling hers to keep her down. Erica grinned.

 

"Now, now, Der-bear, if you wanted me under you, all you had to do was ask."

 

Derek shook his head at her, completely indifferent to her advances by now, and stood up to offer his hand to her. Erica accepted it and let him lift her to standing position again.

 

"Good match. Now, sit on the lounge and relax, the both of you," Stiles said. "And Erica, stop propositioning Derek, it's uncomfortable for everyone," he added.

 

While there wasn't an outward sign of his emotion, the three werewolves could scent the tendril of jealousy that leaked from Stiles. He wasn't really jealous, and Stiles knew it was probably commonplace to all of them since Boyd didn't even seem fazed by Erica's words, but he was still pleased that Derek hadn't even blinked or hesitated at her offer.

 

After being tugged down next to Stiles again, Derek nuzzled against his mate's neck for a good ten minutes, sating his wolf and his own sudden bout of nerves that Stiles thought he would actually accept Erica's proposal. Stiles stroked the back of Derek's hand gently as he did this, subtly replacing Erica's scent with his own.

 

By the time the TV show had finished and they needed to go upstairs to sleep, Stiles had a spectacular case of stubble burn, and Derek smelled like _them_ even to Stiles' human nose. He was ridiculously pleased about that, not even letting go of Derek's hand as they headed upstairs to the bedroom. Erica just winked at them as she passed with Boyd, and Stiles pretended he wasn't blushing brightly.

 

"You can get changed first, if you like," Derek said, reluctant to let go of Stiles.

 

"I guess I'd better; sleeping in jeans is not comfortable," Stiles said with a quick grin, grabbing his pyjamas and heading into the bathroom.

 

Derek readied his own pyjamas, and sat on the recliner with his pillow on his knees. He could smell Stiles' scent on his hands, and was tempted to rub his hands all over Stiles' blue and orange striped shirt that was still stuffed in his pillow. The bathroom door opened before he could do exactly that, and Derek hurried past Stiles with his clothes clutched in his hands.

 

Stiles looked over at the recliner and Derek's pillow, and grinned to himself as he pulled his striped shirt out, wrapping his day's clothes around it to get it all extra scent-filled. Then, before Derek could return, he re-folded the shirt and put it back in the pillow, hurrying to lie down on the bed and look _completely_ innocent.

 

Derek was wary when he opened the bathroom door to find Stiles lying down, looking... well, _weird_ was the only way to explain it. He'd never seen that expression on Stiles' face before, and it looked foreign on him.

 

"What's going on?"

 

"Nothing, just waiting for you. Want to keep holding your hand, I liked doing that," Stiles said, smiling warmly.

 

 _Well, it wasn't a lie_ , Derek noted, but there was still something weird going on. He put his clothes in his laundry basket, then headed over to the recliner to lie down as close to the bed as possible, Stiles taking his hand and giving him another warm smile.

 

Derek adjusted his pillow and was hit with an influx of Stiles _Stiles_ Stiles, the scent so strong that he actually moaned aloud. Stiles laughed in response, happy and pleased rather than mocking and taunting, and Derek knew then what his wonderfully sneaky mate had done.

 

Derek kind of almost already loved Stiles.

 

Feeling foolish and a bit light-headed from the strong scent, Derek pressed a kiss to the back of Stiles' hand, squeezing gently and trying to thank him without words. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get the words out properly, anyway. Stiles grinned broadly and reciprocated, his lips chapped against Derek's skin, but he didn't mind at all.

 

"See you in the morning, big guy."

 

Derek buried his head against the pillow and grinned.

 

...

 

End of ninth chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Derek was having the most lovely dream, a dream where his mate was pressed up against him, hard and wanting beneath him, his hands gripping his shoulders, and Derek was thrusting up into his warm, wet hole. Stiles was watching him, breathless for the moment, but soon he started calling out his name.

 

"Derek! C'mon, big guy, you're about to hump a hole into the recliner," were the first words that Derek heard properly as he woke up, Stiles sounding a mix between amused and embarrassed.

 

Derek woke up completely then, opening his eyes to find his face pressed against his pillow, Stiles' shirt gripped in one hand, and his hips still thrusting against the recliner, his cock hard and straining for release.

 

"Hey, you're awake. Uh, you were moaning pretty loud there, and..."

 

Derek couldn't even look at Stiles, and he leapt off the recliner for the bathroom as fast as he could inhumanly move. The door practically slammed behind him, and Derek glared down at his cock.

 

"This is all your fault," he muttered.

 

"Never mind, I'll use the bathroom after you," Stiles called.

 

He'd been _trying_ to tell Derek that he didn't mind, and would give him privacy if he needed to hit it off (Stiles sure as fuck did, after hearing Derek moaning his name like he was something special), but he hadn't really been given a chance. Instead, Stiles was stuck out here with his hand and no idea where any lube was so he could get off before Derek returned. He was tempted to jerk off into his striped shirt and shove it back in Derek's pillow, but if Derek had tried to hump the recliner to death over an increase in his scent, there was no saying what he'd do if it smelled like jizz.

 

 _Maybe he really would hump a hole in the recliner_ , Stiles thought, poking at his hard dick. It was the first time he'd been hard in almost two weeks, and Stiles didn't really know if he even wanted to come or just have a cold shower instead.

 

Speaking of showers, it sounded like Derek was having one now. That would probably help block out any noise, Stiles mused. He slipped his briefs off and looked at his dick for a moment. Precum was already leaking, as if his poor neglected dick was crying for attention. Well, Stiles wasn't so cruel as to let his dick go neglected again. He used his fingers to spread the precum further down his dick, then spit in his palm to help the rest of the way. It was going to ache and there would be friction, but without proper lube or even a lotion, it would have to do.

 

Derek stood under the cold spray, still glaring down at his cock and refusing to do anything about it. He went still and looked up when he heard the spike of his mate's heart, and almost left the shower, thinking there was something wrong. Then he listened, past the spray of the shower, through the wooden door, into his room where Stiles was sitting on his bed. The sound of masturbating was a familiar one, and Derek's cock surged back to life, despite the cold water. Stiles, his beautiful, sneaky, wonderful mate, was out there masturbating. _Was it because of him? Was he thinking about him?_ Derek wondered, starting to stroke his own cock almost automatically.

 

His free hand turned the warm water on because he wasn't a sadist, and he lessened the spray to keep listening, trying to commit all of Stiles' little noises to heart. The soft grunt as he stroked down, a panting moan as he started to speed up, the soft-breathed ' _fuck_ ' and ' _yes_ ' that slipped out as he twisted his wrist around his head. Derek found himself matching his mate's rhythm, trying to predict what he'd do next.

 

His wolf growled when Stiles moaned his name, demanding that they go out there and join their mate. Derek forced himself to stay where he was though, not wanting to admit that he'd been listening. His wolf called him a coward in not so many words, and, well, Derek couldn't disagree. Still, he closed his eyes and concentrated on Stiles, his strokes increasing with the sound of his heart and his moans. Derek listened as Stiles' heartbeat sped up to the point where it had to be dangerous for the fragile human, and then he was moaning Derek's name again, long and louder. Derek almost howled Stiles' name in response as he orgasmed too, his cum striping the wall.

 

He stayed in the shower for a few more minutes, washing himself off and then the wall to remove any evidence. When Derek felt like he'd be able to face Stiles again, he turned off the shower and started to dry himself off. He belatedly realised that he'd been so eager to escape that he'd run in here without any clothes, so he'd be facing Stiles wearing nothing but a towel. Derek wrapped it around his hips, wondering if Stiles would stare at him or look away, then opened the door and stepped out.

 

Stiles cursed under his breath when he saw just how much cum he'd spurted everywhere. Seriously, it was like his dick was a fountain of cum or something. Sure, it'd been two - almost three - weeks, but fuck, that was a lot. He was still trying to figure out how to clean it up - why were there no tissues around!? - when Derek walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Stiles' dick valiantly tried to get hard again, and of course, _that's_ when Stiles realised he didn't have underwear on.

 

Derek stopped and stared. There was no other word for it, he didn't gaze, he didn't glance, he didn't even look, he simply _stared_. He couldn't stop staring at his mate, his mate's gorgeous cock, or the amount of cum that stained his sheets. Derek never wanted to wash his sheets again. He wanted to roll around on them even more. And he wanted to touch and stroke Stiles' cock until he was hard just so he could suck on him for the rest of the day.

 

"I don't know if you want to eat me or eat me," Stiles muttered, cheeks red as he stood up awkwardly, trying to miss the large wet patch, and tugged his briefs back on.

 

"Which one has my face on your cock?"

 

"Whoa, these scent things really get you off, don't they?" Stiles asked, seeing that Derek probably hadn't meant to say that aloud.

 

Derek nodded, looking embarrassed. "I've got a very sensitive nose."

 

"Hmm, so there's different things you can all have, like better sight, sharper claws, that sort of thing?"

 

"Yeah. Isaac's our fastest runner. He can outrun all of us, even Dad. Erica's got the sharpest claws and won't hesitate to use them. Boyd's the quietest. He's been able to sneak up on a family of rabbits without them even realising, even though he's the biggest."

 

"What about you?" Stiles asked distractedly, looking in drawers and on Derek's computer desk for something.

 

"I'm good at finding things."

 

"Can you help me find tissues? I want to clean that up before it gets gross," Stiles said, indicating over to the sheets.

 

"Tissues are in the bathroom," Derek said, going back into the ensuite to get the box. "I'll get new sheets. If we stuff those sheets at the bottom of the basket, it should mask the scent enough that we won't get embarrassed by whoever has to do the laundry this week."

 

"Good idea," Stiles said, taking the offered box of tissues and cleaning up the mess the best he could. "Don't know why you'd be embarrassed though, it's my cum."

 

"The sheets still smell like me," Derek said with a shrug. "I'll take them off the bed if you want to have your shower?" he offered.

 

Stiles glanced down at himself and nodded with a wince. "Yeah. Might have to stuff my underwear at the bottom of the basket too," he muttered, gathering some clothes to wear.

 

Derek stripped the bed, refrained from rolling around on the sheets though he desperately wanted to, and tipped the clothes out of the basket so he could put the sheet at the bottom and pile the clothes back on top.

 

Stiles was back in the bedroom within fifteen minutes, and Derek had already changed into clothes and remade the bed in that time. He'd run out to the linen cupboard when he was positive he wouldn't be seen by his mother, or worse, Erica.

 

"Table's set, you've got five minutes!" Isaac called, banging on the door as he passed by.

 

"You all right, big guy?" Stiles asked, looking up at Derek from where he was sitting on the bed.

 

Derek nodded wordlessly, wanting to gather Stiles up in a hug until they both smelled like each other again.

 

"I was tempted to cum on the striped shirt, y'know. Was going to, actually, but thought you might really hump a hole in the recliner then," Stiles snorted.

 

"Was dreaming about you."

 

"So I heard. Hope I was good for you," Stiles said with a wink. Then he stood up and patted Derek on the chest briefly before rising up on his toes to kiss his cheek. "I'm still growing, don't laugh."

 

"Wouldn't dream of it."

 

Stiles laughed then and took his hand. "Yeah, I know what you dream of now, big guy."

 

Derek barely had his blush under control when they arrived downstairs for breakfast.

 

...

 

Wednesday night was games night, with everyone initially playing a board game to keep Cora and the twins entertained until their bedtime. Then, once the parents had returned, Stiles saw that everyone had their own games going: an ongoing Monopoly game continuing between Erica, Susan, and Isaac that didn't seem to have any rules, money, or houses left; Boyd and Frank played draughts; and Talia, Derek, and Peter played poker. Well, Stiles knew what game he wanted to play, but despite his poker face being good enough to fool even his dad, he had no idea what his heartbeat did. Talia dealt him in anyway, glaring at Peter when he tried to steal one of her fake poker chips.

 

"We're not betting money in these games, it's just for fun. A word of warning, though: Peter is competitive and cheats," Talia said, glaring at her brother again.

 

"He also sulks when he loses, but you don't have to put up with that," Susan called from the Monopoly table, laughing. "Hey, Mayfair's mine!"

 

"Do you have chess?" Stiles asked curiously, not really liking the expression on Peter's face.

 

"Yes. I'll play you after this game with Boyd," Frank answered. "It's not really Peter's game."

 

Stiles bit back his laugh, then looked at his cards. He tried to keep his breathing steady, not to breath in sharply when he saw the two diamonds, tried not to give away his hand. Still, when he looked up, Peter was watching him as though he knew exactly what cards he had. _Fuck, this was hard_.

 

"Peter, stop trying to intimidate Stiles. You look like you're constipated," Talia said lightly, not looking up from her cards.

 

Stiles couldn't stop his laugh then and over at the Monopoly table, Erica burst out laughing as well. Peter glowered at both of them.

 

"Be careful who you glare at, Uncle; Stiles is still the one doing most of the cooking. I wouldn't know if he put something poisonous in your food or not," Derek added.

 

"Stop giving me ideas. Besides, I'd never do that to food; food is sacred," Stiles said, putting in his bet.

 

The poker game continued for a few more rounds, with Stiles losing every single game. At least Peter didn't win every round, that would have been more than he could bear. Since Stiles used to wipe the floor with his opponents at poker, he desperately wanted to win at least one game, but he also knew his limits. He had to work on keeping _everything_ calm and steady, not just his face.

 

"We're finished now, if you and Boyd want to swap," Frank called.

 

"Be right there," Stiles replied, losing the last of his chips to Derek, who looked apologetic but pleased as well. "Hey Boyd, kick butt for me, yeah?" Stiles said as they swapped seats.

 

Boyd nodded solemnly. "You too."

 

"Oh, I plan on it."

 

Three hours later, it was 11 o'clock, and Stiles was pretty sure he was winning. Frank was taking longer between turns before playing his move, and Stiles was positive that he'd be able to get checkmate within another two hours. Eventually, Talia had to use her Alpha voice to get Frank to stop playing.

 

"Stiles, you have school in the morning. You need to go to bed as well," Talia added, her voice soft. "We start later on Thursdays, so you should hopefully still be able to sleep for your regular time tonight."

 

"Best news I've heard all night," Stiles said through a yawn.

 

"You may reconsider that when you find out that Boyd won every single game of poker after you'd swapped. He was very systematic about it, too. Took Peter out first, then me, and then Derek."

 

"What? How'd he do that?"

 

"Peter can't read him and Boyd has no tell. His heartbeat and face never change, so it's difficult to tell when he's bluffing."

 

"Oh, I've _got_ to get him to teach me how to do that," Stiles said eagerly.

 

"You can try on the weekend, otherwise, you'll have to wait until next Wednesday," Frank said, clapping him on the back.

 

"You only bring the games out once a week?" Stiles asked.

 

"It used to be nightly, but _certain_ people became too competitive about certain games, and we ended up throwing out Battleship," Talia said, glaring at her husband.

 

"Uno is a once-a-month game only. Isaac and Erica hoard the Draw-Fours," Frank said.

 

"I don't know whether I should ask if I missed the monthly Uno game or not," Stiles said with a grin.

 

"It's next week," Frank said, grinning back at him.

 

"Good night, Stiles. See you in the morning," Talia said, taking her husband's hand and leading him past Derek's room.

 

Stiles waited until they were gone before slipping into the room, trying to keep quiet in case Derek was already asleep.

 

"I'm awake, you can turn the light on," Derek offered.

 

"Nah, I think I know my way around," Stiles said, tugging off his jeans and hopping around the edge of the computer desk.

 

He smacked his foot into the computer chair and let out a hiss of pain. Derek sat up on the recliner and turned on the bedside light. Soft light filled the room, and Stiles let go of his foot sheepishly.

 

"Sorry, Derek. I'll be quick, and you can get back to sleep," Stiles promised, pulling off his shirt and sorting through his clothes to find a new pyjama one.

 

"Wasn't sleeping. Couldn't get to sleep without you here," Derek admitted quietly. Then he coughed, cheeks red. "How did the chess game go with Dad?"

 

"Good; we haven't finished yet. I think I'm only a few moves away from checkmate though."

 

"Be careful of getting too cocky about it; Dad likes to lure people into a false sense of security, then comes out of nowhere with a pawn or knight and captures the king."

 

"How many times has he done that to you?" Stiles asked, grinning as he crawled up onto the bed.

 

"Enough," Derek muttered, lying back on the recliner with a yawn.

 

Stiles grabbed Derek's hand before he could even offer it, and Derek smiled at him sleepily as he squeezed his hand gently. Reaching up, Derek turned off the lamp, and settled back down to go to sleep. Stiles fell asleep quickly that night, with Derek mere seconds behind him.

 

...

 

Stiles woke up by eight thirty, stretching and yawning widely, hearing his bones and limbs crack. Derek was already awake and gone, the recliner empty and the ensuite door open. After finishing his normal morning routine, Stiles wandered downstairs. Breakfast was sitting on the table, but only Erica and Isaac were sitting there, both of them muttering and glaring at each other about Monopoly.

 

"Hey, where's everyone?" Stiles asked, yawning again.

 

"Cora and Frank are still asleep; Derek and Boyd went for a run this morning, and Talia made breakfast then disappeared. Peter, Susan, and the twins are still at their house," Isaac answered promptly.

 

Stiles nodded and slumped down on one of the seats, resting his head in the crook of his arm. Eventually, he lifted his head long enough to gather some toast and make grabby motions towards the jam.

 

"What are the magic words?" Erica teased, grinning as she grabbed the jar and held it away.

 

"Give me the damn jar," he mumbled into his arm.

 

"Hmm, not quite what I expected, but it's acceptable," Erica said with a shrug as she placed the jar in front of him on the table.

 

Stiles ate his toast slowly, listening as Isaac and Erica started trading tips on how to hoard all of the Draw Fours in Uno next week.

 

"When do we start school-related stuff?" he asked when they lapsed into silence.

 

"Not until eleven," Isaac replied.

 

"Why so late?"

 

"Game night can last a while; we ended it early last night," he said, grinning. "And so we can get chores out of the way now instead of having to do them on the weekend. The chart's on the fridge."

 

Stiles nodded in thanks and headed to the kitchen with his dishes. The chart had to be new, since it hadn't been there the night before - he was certain he would have seen his name up on the fridge in bright blue letters - and Stiles thunked his head on the fridge when he saw that he had laundry duties. If there was a chore Stiles could hate more than laundry, he hadn't come across it.

 

Although, it did give him a chance to clean Derek's sheets without the others' noticing. Stiles put his dishes in the dishwasher and bolted for the laundry where all of the laundry baskets were sitting, Derek's included.

 

"Don't just throw everything in one load!" Erica yelled from the kitchen.

 

Stiles cursed under his breath and put the basket down again to sort everything into a pile of coloured clothing and whites. He was tempted to shove a red sock in with the whites, just to ensure that he'd never have to do the laundry again, but Stiles was fairly positive that Talia would just make him do the laundry until he could wash everything properly.

 

By the time he had enough clothes gathered for one load, Stiles shoved them all in, poured in detergent and fabric softener (both were odourless, which he supposed made sense for a pack of werewolves), and turned the machine on. There were still another two piles left on the laundry floor, so Stiles set them aside for later.

 

With the first load done, he went back to where Isaac and Erica where arguing over the validity of Skips and Draw Twos. Stiles joined in the argument without pause, delighting the two werewolves.

 

Derek and Boyd returned from their run later, Boyd heading straight upstairs for a shower. Derek smiled at Stiles brightly when he saw him, pulling him into a hug and sniffing at his neck.

 

"You're so sweet, I'm gonna puke," Erica groaned, heading upstairs.

 

"Everyone knows you're going upstairs to Boyd," Isaac called after her, Erica laughing in return. "And now that all the happy couples are together, I'm going to go chop some wood. On my own. As usual."

 

Derek ignored him, burying his nose further into the crook of Stiles' neck. Isaac left through the kitchen, muttering under his breath about dying alone surrounded by a pile of wood, and Stiles tried hard not to laugh.

 

"You finished yet? I've got to put on the next load of laundry. Six baskets is a bit much for one family, y'know," Stiles said, patting Derek's back.

 

"We only have four baskets: Erica and Boyd share one, Isaac has his own, Mum and Dad share with Cora, and I have my own."

 

"Peter?" Stiles asked, Derek nodding. "Oh good, so he won't mind if I bleach all of his colours then?"

 

"I would, actually. My purple shirt is Susan's favourite. Now, I'd offer to take my clothes back but several of them are already in the washing machine. It would be a shame to re-wash them now," Peter said.

 

"Sorry, Stiles. He does this every time there's a new laundry person. I would have warned you myself, but I didn't realise he'd taken the baskets out until it was too late. Peter will make up for it," Susan said, levelling her husband with a glare.

 

"Of course I will. Once a suitable repayment has been agreed upon," he added, smirking at Stiles.

 

"You have to cook dinner _both nights_ this weekend for the pack," Stiles said.

 

"Oh, but I wouldn't _dream_ of getting in the way of my favourite nephew's learning," Peter replied.

 

"Yes, you would," Derek muttered under his breath.

 

"I agree on behalf of Peter, since my clothes are in there too. I'm sorry you've had to put up with the twins' clothes more than anything," Susan muttered.

 

"Sue, darling, do you remember the last time I attempted to cook?"

 

"Yes, I do. You purposely set it on fire just to get out of cooking. If you don't cook these two meals on the weekend then I'll make sure Stiles and Derek make the most garlic-y and herb-filled meals they can, and **you** will be changing the twins' nappies for the rest of the month."

 

Peter turned to Stiles and Derek, looking slightly pale. "I've reconsidered, and I will be cooking dinner on the weekend."

 

"Both nights?" Stiles confirmed.

 

"Both nights," Peter said, nodding. When he looked a little more composed, Peter turned back to his wife and grinned. "You're evil, and I love you that much more, darling."

 

"I learnt from the best, sweetheart. Now, take Tommy and Robbie home. They need changing," Susan said, handing the twins over to their father.

 

Peter kissed her briefly, the two boys nestled in his arms, then left for their house.

 

"He really has no issue changing their diapers, except for when they're especially smelly. Pegs are usually involved, and it's hilarious," Susan said, laughing.

 

"If you take a photo, I will make you whatever you want," Stiles said.

 

"That all depends on whether you can make triple-choc brownies."

 

"I'll bring them for dessert on the weekend," Stiles promised.

 

"Ooh! Derek, I'm stealing Stiles if those brownies are any good," Susan warned, and Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles' waist, as if worried that she would go through on her threat. "Sorry again about the laundry."

 

"Don't worry, Derek will help me out," Stiles said, patting Derek's arm.

 

"We'll only be able to get one more load in before school starts," Derek pointed out.

 

Stiles shrugged. "I'll do the last one later then."

 

The wet laundry load was placed in a basket, a new load started, and Derek carried the heavy basket out to the clothes line. Stiles and Derek were both quiet as they pegged up the wet clothes - Stiles could tell which were Peter's now that he was actually looking properly - and they were finished with enough time for Derek to go shower before they started their day of schooling.

 

Stiles watched as Derek jogged back to the house, taking a moment to appreciate the way his ass hugged his shorts and how his shirt was stuck to the finer muscles of his back with sweat. Stiles kind of wanted to climb Derek, and forced himself to stay outside so he wouldn't follow Erica's example and join Derek in the shower. They weren't quite there yet.

 

Holding the laundry basket listlessly to his side, Stiles looked out towards the forest. He hadn't felt _too_ claustrophobic while being confined to the Hales' house, but now Stiles was anxious to explore, to walk through the forest, to know it the way the rest of the pack did. While he hadn't been a victim to the same fear that drove others in Beacon Hills to join the Argent Artillery, Stiles had always had a healthy amount of concern of the forest and its inhabitants. Now that he knew the truth about the wolves, he wanted to see it again in a new light.

 

As he stared out to the forest, Stiles felt a pull in him. It was just a feeling, something uncurling and trying to tug him out towards the trees, but it made him restless. He felt like he had to go into the forest right now, that there was something out there, and it was waiting for him. He took a step forward, the basket slipping out of his grip.

 

"Stiles, is everything all right?" Talia asked, her hand on his shoulder, and the spell broken.

 

"I... uh, yeah. I think. The forest." He cut off sharply, realising just how ridiculous it sounded, even in his own head.

 

Talia waited for a moment, watching him. "The forest?" she prompted.

 

"I felt like I needed to go in there, like there was something out there waiting for me. I don't know; I know it sounds crazy."

 

"Not as crazy as you'd believe. There are more than werewolves in those trees, Stiles, and you would do well to remember that," Talia murmured, and it sounded as though she was reminding herself just as much as him.

 

"Now, let's get your school day started. We'll finish later today due to the later start, but there will still be enough time for you and Derek to cook dinner... I heard about Peter's punishment for the laundry," she added, smiling.

 

"I know it was Derek's punishment, but I thought it'd punish Peter more," Stiles said, wincing when he realised that he had gone against the Alpha's authority.

 

"I think two days reprieve will be acceptable. Besides, you're right, and Peter deserves it. He tries to get his laundry in with ours every month. The others all know their scents and tend to throw the clothes back at him. Seeing my brother's underwear hanging off the roof gutter was something I was not prepared for," Talia muttered, shaking her head.

 

Stiles laughed, picked up the laundry basket, and went back inside with Talia.

 

...

 

Frank did the final load of laundry, Cora helping him by holding the peg basket and offering a fistful of pegs each time he picked up a piece of clothing. Considering Talia decided to give them a pop quiz for History, Stiles almost would have preferred to do the laundry instead.

 

Talia had to make a phone call while they were doing their quiz, but no one said anything once she'd left, knowing that she would still be listening. Stiles finished his quiz, double-checked, then triple-checked his answers, and Talia still hadn't returned. To pass the time, he drew on the paper, doodling a triskelion with three curved points.

 

"Time's up, pens down," Talia called as she entered the room.

 

Stiles looked up to see the four werewolves all looking at Talia in concern. "What did I miss?" he asked, looking between them with a confused frown.

 

"Nothing, really. I simply invited Deaton over for dinner tomorrow night. He is a vegetarian, so keep that in mind when you plan dinner, Derek," Talia said, collecting the pop quiz from Stiles and the three younger werewolves. "And you should be further through your essay than that, Derek. Concentrate, or I'll move you to a different room."

 

Derek blushed, looking away from Stiles and back to his own paper.

 

"Why's it a bad thing that Talia's invited Deaton for dinner?" Stiles asked the others as they went for lunch.

 

"The last time she did that, the houses were warded to the point where we couldn't leave for three days," Isaac said with a soft whine.

 

"The time before that, Deaton cleansed the house and we couldn't smell _anything_ for a whole week. It was horrible," Erica said, shuddering.

 

"Talia mentioned you on her phone call though, Stiles," Boyd said.

 

"Wait, what?"

 

"It doesn't mean it's a bad thing," Derek added quickly.

 

"That doesn't necessarily mean it's good either," Stiles retorted.

 

"It'll be fine," Derek said, taking his hand and squeezing gently.

 

Stiles wanted to believe him, but he wasn't sure he could do that.

 

...

 

Stiles was making himself anxious, thinking about reasons for Deaton coming on such short notice and why _he_ was involved, and he hardly tasted the home-made pizzas he and Derek had made for dinner. The rest of the pack spent most of the evening arguing over the best pizza toppings, Isaac hogging a tin of pineapple while Erica pretended to gag and Boyd just created his own version of meat-lovers pizza with extra meat.

 

Once dinner was finished, Stiles still couldn't stop thinking or get himself to relax. He couldn't concentrate on _The Greatest Chef_ properly, not even when one of the contestants burnt their cooking pot so bad that the whole thing had to be thrown out (beside him, Derek looked interested that someone claiming to be a professional chef could make a mistake even worse than he had).

 

"Come on," Derek murmured during the next ad break, taking Stiles' hand and guiding him outside.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"I can hear you thinking in there. You're not relaxing and something's eating at you."

 

Stiles didn't bother trying to deny it, and just nodded in response.

 

"Let's go for a walk," Derek offered.

 

"Where? I'm not allowed in the forest, remember?"

 

"Yeah, but we've got plenty of yard until then. We'll walk in circles until you forget what you're stressing about."

 

Stiles nodded and took Derek's hand again, walking beside him across the yard and towards Peter's house. As they neared, he could hear the twins giggling, Peter growling playfully, and Susan making noises that sounded a lot like raspberries.

 

"Boyd should be over soon to read to the twins. It's almost their bedtime," Derek said, looking to his watch.

 

"D'you think he's enjoying reading to them?"

 

"I think so. They like it best when he growls or shifts, so he has fun with that too."

 

"I kinda want to see Boyd reading to them," Stiles said with a grin.

 

"We can stay back on the weekend, if you'd like? I'm sure Boyd wouldn't mind a couple more people in his audience."

 

"All right," Stiles said, nodding. He thought of something suddenly, then looked to Derek. "You don't mind that I took away two nights of cooking for you, do you?"

 

Derek shrugged. "If it means I get to spend time with you, I really don't mind."

 

Stiles laughed, stopping their walk to kiss Derek. "Sappy wolf."

 

Derek grinned against his lips and held him close.

 

They pulled away eventually, then they continued to walk, hands held loosely between them. Stiles almost tripped over a clump of grass, a tree branch, and his own feet a few times, and Derek's grip on his hand tightened each time so he wouldn't fall onto his face.

 

"Maybe I should've brought out a torch," Derek murmured when Stiles almost tripped again.

 

"I don't think it'd help, dude. I trip over _air_ sometimes," Stiles said, shrugging.

 

"You must be very resilient," Derek said.

 

"That's one way of putting it. A complete and utter klutz is another."

 

"Considering you booby trapped your entire house, I find it difficult to believe that you're that much of a klutz."

 

"Eh, my brain gets caught up in its own thing, my limbs do what they want."

 

They walked on for a few more metres, completing their third lap of the yard, and Stiles stopped, looking at Derek and tilting his head.

 

"Did you mean it when you said you wanted to learn how to make booby traps?" he asked curiously.

 

Derek wasn't quite sure how Stiles had come to that question, but he remembered the conversation - his confession from days ago - and nodded firmly.

 

"Want me to teach you on the weekend when we don't have to be in school, then?" Stiles offered, grinning.

 

"Yes!" Erica's response from the house was full of excitement, despite being only one syllable, and Stiles could see Isaac and Boyd standing behind her.

 

"Well, this'll be fun."

 

'Fun' wasn't quite how Derek would describe it, but his mate looked so pleased to have so many people willing and eager to learn from him that he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed that he would no longer have time alone with Stiles.

 

...

 

End of tenth chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Deaton praised Derek's vegetable curry and rice, and Stiles wanted to shout 'just get it over with already!' even though he had no idea what _it_ even was. He had been anxious for most of the day and all of the evening, Derek trying his best to keep him calm and reassured. Stiles was fairly sure that he would have been jumping out of his seat every few seconds if not for Derek beside him, so he knew that it could have been worse. Poor Derek simply looked as though he'd failed at everything in life, but Stiles couldn't apologise or make it better when he still felt so highly strung.

 

"I think it's time now, don't you, Talia?" Deaton asked.

 

"I believe so. Stiles, if you could come with us?" Talia asked, Frank and Deaton standing a second after she did.

 

Stiles practically vibrated out of his chair and was standing by the doorway in a second. He looked back to where Derek was sitting, still looking miserable, and he looked to Deaton.

 

"Can Derek come with us?"

 

"If he'd... like," Deaton ended with an amused expression, Derek already standing beside Stiles before he'd even finished.

 

"Rock for dishes," Boyd said before Erica or Isaac could leave them to him.

 

Stiles barely heard their groan of annoyance as he left with the others. (They all heard, not even thirty seconds later, when Erica lost and demanded a repeat.) As they headed out to the back porch, Derek grabbed Stiles' hand, and Stiles let out a small sigh of relief at the contact, squeezing Derek's hand in return. Derek brightened up at that considerably.

 

"All right. Stiles, if you would like to stand here, I'd like to see if you can light this candle," Deaton said, placing a candlestick on the rail in front of him.

 

Stiles stared at the white candle in front of him, then looked from Deaton to Talia and Frank. "I don't have any matches."

 

"You're not meant to. See if you can light it with your mind; believe that it will work, and it will," Deaton said.

 

"With my _mind?_ This isn't some weird fairy tale, you know," Stiles pointed out, frowning.

 

"I never said it was. Concentrate, if you please. It shouldn't take long to determine if Talia's suspicions are correct," Deaton said, as if _that_ was meant to reassure Stiles, who was still mind-boggled at the very idea of lighting a candle with his _mind_.

 

He stared at the candle again, with intent and purpose this time, and imagined the wick burning. A slow, solid burn, blue at the bottom as the pure flame burnt the wick, and then softening to a soft orange glow as the heat reduced in the night air. Stiles imagined and believed, and then he imagined some more. Finally, he shook his head and looked to Deaton.

 

"It's not working. Is that all you came out here for?"

 

"Stiles, look at the candle again," Deaton said, nodding to the railing.

 

Frowning, Stiles looked to the candle. His mouth dropped when he saw the candle was burning away, an orange flame flickering in the breeze, just as he'd imagined.

 

"I'd like to do another test, if you don't mind?" Deaton asked.

 

"What kind of tests?" Stiles asked warily. 

 

"If you could put the candle out first, then I will explain," he replied.

 

Stiles imagined the flame reducing down, the orange flame flickering violently before snuffing out completely.

 

"Thank you. You simply could have blown the flame out if you'd preferred," Deaton added with an amused smile.

 

"What do the tests mean?" Derek asked suddenly, looking between the smoke trail left behind by the candle to Stiles, and then to Deaton.

 

"If Stiles has what it takes to be a spark or emissary," he replied.

 

"If I do, what happens then?" Stiles asked.

 

"I would hopefully be allowed to teach you the way of the emissary, increase your ability until you are able to defend or attack as needed, and ensure that you can create or break wards."

 

"Is this something I'd need to leave here to do?"

 

Deaton looked away for a brief moment. "The training is something that most sparks or emissaries-in-training would do without outside influences involved. However, due to your personal circumstance, I would be willing to train you here so you are not required to leave your mate when this early time together is still so important to you both."

 

Stiles gave a brief nod. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be a spark, emissary, whatever it was called, but he'd been anxious about the tests all day, and Stiles was curious to know just what else he could do. Lighting a candle with the power of his mind was pretty impressive, but if there was even _more_ than that, Stiles just had to know if he could do it or not.

 

"All right. What's the next test?"

 

Deaton nodded, as if he'd expected nothing less, and set a jar of black ash in front of him. Talia, Frank, and Derek were all eyeing the jar as if it was an explosive with seconds left on the timer, and Stiles immediately knew what was inside of it.

 

"That's mountain ash, isn't it?" he asked just to be certain, grinning when Deaton nodded. "I read about it in one of Talia's books. Can I make a full circle with it like in the picture?"

 

"We can work up to that."

 

Stiles was a little disappointed, but nodded, and waited for Deaton to start his test. Deaton opened the jar carefully, placed a few grains of ash on Stiles' palm, and told him to make a full metre line with them. Stiles looked between Deaton and the ash on his hand, wondering if all emissaries were this insane. _If he had an entire jar of mountain ash just sitting there, why couldn't he use it?!_

 

Stiles said as much, and Deaton raised an eyebrow pointedly as he placed the jar back into his pocket.

 

"All right, I get it: I might not have a jar of mountain ash sitting around all the time," Stiles muttered.

 

He held the grains tightly, hoped they weren't sticking to his hand with sweat, and tried to do the same as the candle by imagining that the grains were multiplying so he'd have enough to make a full line. Stiles stared at his clenched fist, felt his hand tickle, and then watched as black ash started to pour out of his hand, between his fingers, and down onto the porch in a straight line.

 

Derek didn't care that his parents and Deaton were right there, he let out a whine when his mate effectively blocked himself off from him, and he tried to cross the line to get back to Stiles. Despite the ash not being a complete barrier around Stiles, it still lit up with a bright flash of light and Derek was pushed back a few steps. He let out a brief growl, intent on trying again, but Talia placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

 

"Ah, shit. Was it meant to do that?" Stiles asked, the flow of ash stopping as he looked up to Deaton.

 

"No, it wasn't," Deaton replied, though he sounded curious. "In its ash form, rowan usually needs to be in a complete circle before it will protect the one inside of it. If it is a solid material, such as a plank of wood, then it does not have the same limitations, but this is the first I have heard of ash behaving as the wood."

 

"So, is that a good or bad thing?" Stiles asked, kneeling on the porch and trying to scoop the ash line back into his palm awkwardly.

 

"I am not sure. I will have to do some research to find out. Let's hope it is a good thing," he added, hoping to reassure all present.

 

"Uh, do you have something to put this in? I don't want anyone tripping over 'cause I missed a couple of grains," Stiles muttered, his hands full of the gathered ash.

 

Deaton produced a small cloth bag for Stiles, holding it open so he could tip the grains in. He thanked Deaton before turning back to the ash that remained and scooped it towards the bag again. As soon as the last of the grains were gone, Derek moved to stand beside Stiles, looking as though not even a full rowan tree itself would move him.

 

"Now, Stiles, have you ever meditated before?"

 

"No, I'm not really good at sitting still for a long time," Stiles said, shaking his head.

 

"Very well, then you will need to start practising. I will leave some books with you to read, and when I return in a week's time, I expect that you will be able to meditate for at least half an hour straight."

 

"Wait, _that's it?_ " Stiles asked, frowning. "We've only done two tests."

 

"Yes, and that's already more than most uninitiated emissaries would have undergone. As you do not know how to meditate properly, it would be dangerous and foolish to make you attempt it right now. You need to read, understand, and practice, and then when you are ready, I will test you again," Deaton said, then excused himself to retrieve the necessary books for Stiles.

 

"I stressed out about this _all day_. All of that effort for a candle and a few grains of ash," Stiles groaned.

 

Talia smiled and patted his shoulder gently. "Both of those tests are more than anyone else in my pack could do, Stiles. You did a very good job, and I'm looking forward to seeing what else you will be able to do with the proper training."

 

He sighed and nodded briefly. "Thank you, Alpha Talia."

 

"You're welcome. Now, once you have your books, I suggest you and Derek go upstairs and relax. It has been a stressful day for both of you, and the books will still be there for you to read tomorrow."

 

"Sounds like a good idea," Stiles said, stepping forward to take Derek's hand in his own.

 

Derek rested his chin on Stiles' shoulder, not so subtly scenting him. Being blocked like that had terrified his wolf, taking over the rational part of his brain that said it was temporary and accidental on Stiles' part. Yet, it still didn't stop his wolf from wanting to pin Stiles down to something and hold him there, just so they wouldn't have that barrier between them again. Derek was beginning to think Stiles was right: he really was a sappy wolf.

 

Deaton returned with a large stack of books for Stiles, who reluctantly let go of Derek's hand to take the books instead.

 

"You do not have to read them all by the time I come back, but try to get through some of them if you can. I have placed the most important ones on the top of the pile," Deaton added.

 

"All right, thanks. I'll take good care of them, and I won't highlight them," Stiles promised.

 

"You can use sticky notes if you wish, just please make sure to take them out carefully before returning the books to me; they look unsightly and the pages are fragile and easily torn."

 

"I'll remember that," Stiles said, nodding firmly and almost dropping the books.

 

Derek took the books from him before he could protest, gave Deaton a brief nod, and went back inside.

 

"Thanks for the tests, Deaton, they were interesting. See you next week," Stiles called over his shoulder, hurrying after Derek.

 

"We'll walk you back to your car, Alan," Talia offered Deaton, taking Frank's offered arm.

 

"Thank you, Alpha Talia."

 

Stiles had barely shut the bedroom door before Derek was standing in front of him, waiting for him anxiously.

 

"You really didn't like that barrier, did you, big guy?" Stiles asked, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

Derek shook his head and wrapped his arms around Stiles, bringing their bodies as close as he could and breathing in his mate's scent.

 

"Hey, it's all right now. How about we cuddle on the bed for a while?" Stiles suggested.

 

Derek immediately picked him up and carried him over to the bed without replying. Stiles laughed as Derek dropped him on the mattress and crawled up to cover his body with his, his face resting in the crook of his neck and their bodies pressed against each other. It wasn't _quite_ what Stiles meant by cuddling, but this was nice too.

 

He carded his fingers through Derek's hair gently, calming both of them with the motion. Stiles vaguely thought that maybe he could meditate after all, covered and safe underneath Derek's body the way he was. They didn't mean to fall asleep, but they were both so calm, and after the day of stress and with their adrenaline fading from them so swiftly, they were both asleep within an hour, Stiles still caught under Derek's body.

 

...

 

Stiles woke up in the early hours of the morning, the sky still dark outside, and Derek's body warm and heavy on top of him. He could still breathe, which was a definite bonus, and if the hard length digging into his hip was any indication, Derek was having another 'hump the recliner' kind of dream. Stiles hadn't slept through the night without his own fair share of dreams, and as a result of their bodies being pressed up against each other firmly, Stiles' erection was nestled against Derek's legs. The warmth surrounding his cock actually felt pretty good now that he was awake and aware of it, and Stiles gyrated his hips experimentally, biting down on his lip to stop from moaning aloud. _Okay, that felt fucking fantastic_.

 

Realising that his action had caused Derek to wake up, Stiles stilled immediately, feeling guilty, even as he watched Derek blink his way awake a second later, looking sleepy as he sniffed and tried to determine what had woken him up. The scent in the air must have had more than his recent guilt because as soon as Derek sniffed it, his sleepy frown disappeared and he looked down at Stiles sharply, blue-green-gold eyes staring at him intensely. Then, before Stiles could think of something to say - an excuse or an apology, he wasn't quite sure himself - Derek rocked his hips back down against Stiles' firmly. Whatever Stiles had thought to say filtered out as a moan instead.

 

Stiles licked his lips, unable to look away from Derek and his _eyes_ , lifting his hips up to meet Derek's again, with far more purpose and intent this time, their covered cocks rubbing against each other. Derek thrust against his hips in slow movements, watching Stiles so intently that he had to close his eyes just to compose himself for a moment. Derek let out a soft whine, and Stiles blinked his eyes open again, Derek smiling in response.

 

Unable to hold back or stop himself, Stiles leaned up and kissed Derek along his jawline, the werewolf shuddering in pleasure at the soft kisses. Derek lowered himself down on top of Stiles gently, careful with his weight, and waited a moment to ensure Stiles would be okay. He gasped softly, but there was no pain, no scent of annoyance, just one of lust and _need_. Derek bit back a groan and buried his head in the crook of Stiles' shoulder, breathing in his scent and his hips still rocking down against his firmly.

 

Stiles wanted more, wanted to hold Derek's cock in his hand, to feel the weight of it, the silky feel of it, to see if he was circumcised or uncut (he briefly wondered if werewolves even could get circumcised or not), to make him twitch and pulse in his grip. But he couldn't bring himself to do any of that. He was afraid that whatever _this_ was would be broken if he spoke aloud, and Stiles didn't want this to stop at all. He loved the feel of Derek's weight on top of him, pinning him down and keeping him in place, their hips rocking up against each other eagerly, both of them panting softly, and Derek's mouth pressed into the curve of his neck. Stiles curled his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of Derek's neck, tugging briefly as his hips sped up, desperation overtaking all else. Derek whined softly, licking at the claiming mark he'd left on Stiles when they'd first met, and matched his pace to Stiles' erratic one.

 

Stiles bowed off the bed as far as he could, his cock pressed right up against Derek's own, and he shoved his fist in his mouth to muffle his cry as he came hard. Derek muffled his own cry against the pillow, his teeth digging in firmly. His wolf wanted to bite Stiles again, to claim him all over again, just to feel the ache and the rush of emotion and their mate in everything, but Derek wouldn't do that to Stiles again. Not unless Stiles wanted him to, of course. He lay on top of Stiles, panting heavily, and Stiles stroked his hair lazily, both of them ignoring the wet mess between them for the moment.

 

By the time Derek felt his heartbeat return to its regular pace, Stiles was shifting beneath him, and obviously ready to get out of the bed.

 

"I seriously need to have a shower," Stiles said, wincing.

 

Derek nodded and rolled off of Stiles as gently as he possibly could. He stood and went to go back to his recliner, but stopped when he realised that Stiles was still sitting in the bed and hadn't immediately bolted for the bathroom.

 

"You okay, Stiles?" he asked quietly.

 

"I... I, uh, I don't want to leave you yet?" he said, so hesitant that it almost sounded like a question.

 

Derek understood the feeling all too well, but he didn't know how to explain it. Instead, he nodded and held out his hand. Stiles took it immediately, and let Derek guide him to the bathroom in the dark. Stiles was reluctant to let go, even though he still wasn't comfortable with being naked in front of Derek, but Derek seemed to realise how he was feeling because he let go of Stiles' hand gently, his thumb brushing against his skin, and turned away so he could get undressed in relative privacy.

 

"I'll stay in here, if you'd like?" Derek offered.

 

"Okay," Stiles said, far too quickly to ever be considered smooth, and immediately wanted to smack his head on the wall.

 

Derek just smiled. Stiles showered, cleaning the drying ejaculate off his body as fast as humanly possible, and scrubbing at his ruined boxers in an effort to clean them too. As promised, Derek was still waiting in the bathroom for Stiles when he finished, and Derek turned around again to give him privacy while he dried off.

 

"I'll be out in a minute. I'd better have a shower too," Derek said, already stripping his boxers off and stepping into the cubicle.

 

Derek was surprised to see Stiles waiting for him when he finished his shower, but he couldn't stop his smile, even as he dried off and pulled on a fresh pair of boxers. It was still far too early to stay awake by the time they made it back into the bedroom, and Derek would have gone over to his recliner, but Stiles grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the bed instead. Derek smiled again, pressed a feather-light kiss to Stiles' shoulder, and settled down to sleep. Stiles kept holding onto Derek's hand even as they both fell asleep.

 

...

 

Knocking on the bedroom door woke them both up hours later, and Derek nuzzled against Stiles' neck.

 

"Who's it?" Stiles murmured sleepily.

 

"Erica," Derek replied, his answer brief as he was far more interested in his mate's scent.

 

"Mmkay. Come back later," Stiles called towards the door, tilting his head to give Derek more access.

 

"She can't hear you; sound-proof room," Derek reminded him, voice breathless as Stiles' scent and the memory of that morning overwhelmed him.

 

"She'll get the idea," Stiles murmured, hands sliding along Derek's biceps as he continued to scent the column of his neck.

 

A few seconds later, there was another bout of knocking at the door. Stiles groaned in annoyance, the warmth of his breath tickling against Derek's cheek and ear.

 

"Talia wants us all downstairs, hurry up!" Erica called.

 

"Damn it," Stiles groaned again, sighing and sitting up reluctantly.

 

Derek agreed whole-heartedly, but they both got out of bed, dressed, and headed downstairs to the dining room. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac were already at the table, with Talia sitting at the head of the table and obviously waiting on them. Everyone could smell his scent clinging to Stiles, and the reddened skin from Derek's scruff was obvious enough. Erica smirked at them when they arrived and waggled her eyebrows at Derek knowingly. Boyd didn't seem quite as invested in their scents, and Isaac looked horrible, his head resting in the crook of his arm and his curls spilling over his forearm.

 

"Good morning; thank you for coming down so early," Talia said with a warm smile.

 

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't say something sarcastic in response, and Derek squeezed his hand briefly as well.

 

"Would you sit down already so I can lean on you and go back to sleep? No, not _you_ , you're not soft enough," Isaac groaned at Derek, waving him away from where he was sitting with his head on the table.

 

"I'm not soft; I'm all bones and elbows," Stiles said, though he sat next to Isaac anyway, Derek sitting next to him and taking his hand again.

 

Isaac snorted and leaned his head on Stiles' shoulder. "You don't have knees, just elbows. Or shoulders, or ankles. All of you is elbows."

 

"I really don't think Isaac's sane enough to pay attention, Alpha Talia," Erica said, grinning.

 

"Shuddup, I had a bad sleep," he mumbled in retort.

 

"Isaac, your hand please," Talia said, holding out hers for him.

 

He blinked wearily and after a moment, placed his hand in Talia's. A heartbeat later, thick black lines weaved their way up her arm, and though she paled for a moment, Talia inhaled and exhaled with controlled breaths until her normal colour returned and the black lines faded away.

 

"The next time you have a nightmare, you find me or Frank, is that understood, dear one?" Talia said, her voice soft and kind.

 

Isaac nodded mutely, looking a little embarrassed. "Yes, Alpha Talia."

 

"It's nothing to be ashamed about," she added, waiting for Isaac's nod of acceptance before she turned her attention to everyone. "You have exams in a fortnight's time, and you should all know which subjects you need to focus more of your attention on, so in your classes, we'll organise a schedule to best suit everyone. As per usual, Deaton will be attending to sound-proof the rooms so you can't tell each other the answers, and there will also be an Argent in attendance to ensure that all compliances are met."

 

"Which Argent?" Stiles asked, everyone looking to him immediately when his heartbeat skyrocketed and his _anxious-fear-hate_ chemo signals poured off of him in waves.

 

Stiles was gripping Derek's hand so tight that his knuckles were white, and Derek suddenly wanted nothing more than to hunt down all of the Argents for ever making his mate feel like this. He barely held his wolf back from doing exactly that, the only reason he stayed seated was due to Stiles' hand in his own.

 

Talia frowned at Stiles' vehement response and the slipping hold her son had over his wolf. As Alpha, she reached out for Derek to calm him, and hopefully calm his mate in response. It was a struggle, Stiles' emotions almost winning out and overwhelming her as well, but after a few minutes, Derek and Stiles had both calmed down enough to lessen her worry.

 

"Chris and Victoria Argent, I believe. I can request someone else, if you'd prefer?" Talia offered.

 

Stiles shook his head. "No. Victoria is... well, terrifying on the best of days, but she and Chris are better than the alternatives," he muttered. "I need some air, excuse me," he said, letting go of Derek's hand and leaving before anyone could try to stop him.

 

Derek looked to his mother, his Alpha, eyes wide and hurt. She nodded at him, and Derek ran after Stiles immediately.

 

"Was that all you wanted to tell us, Alpha Talia?" Boyd asked.

 

"Yes, that was all. I thought it might have lead on to further discussion about your exams and fine-tuning your required areas, but I was wrong," Talia said, glancing to Stiles and Derek's empty chairs.

 

"I'm still having trouble with French," Isaac offered, a little hesitantly.

 

"Boyd's passing French with flying colours; he can help you," Erica said, smiling and patting her boyfriend's hand proudly.

 

"I could use your help with Chemistry," Boyd added, looking to Isaac, who nodded eagerly in response.

 

Outside, Stiles was pacing back and forth in front of the tree line, biting out half-muttered words that Derek had no hope of deciphering. He approached Stiles slowly, careful not to startle him. Stiles turned to face Derek, hands clenched by his sides, and Derek noticed that his _anxious-fear-hate_ emotions were mostly just anger now.

 

"I thought I'd gotten out of there, Derek! They pulled me from my house, kicking and screaming and fighting with everything I had, even though I was still in my mourning period, and I..." Stiles faltered here, taking a second to try to figure out how to express himself. "I don't want to see any of the Argents ever again. I never thought I'd have to see them again."

 

Derek had no idea how to respond. He couldn't say that Stiles wouldn't have to see them again after their exams, because that wasn't something he could promise, especially if negotiations started up between his mother and the Argents again. He wanted to tell Stiles wouldn't have to see them at all, that he'd shield Stiles from seeing the Argents at all, but he couldn't promise that either.

 

"I... I wish that you didn't have to," Derek said finally, taking a hesitant step forward to offer his mate comfort through touch, if he couldn't with his words.

 

Stiles stepped forward as well, practically crashing against his chest and holding on to him with tightly curled fingers. "Can we just skip exams this year?"

 

"It's your final year; you don't want to repeat this year, do you?"

 

Stiles groaned in annoyance and buried his head against Derek's chest further still. "Ugh, _no_."

 

Derek hugged Stiles, rubbing his back and trying to calm him, sniffing to check his emotions. The anger was fading, giving way to content and a slight wave of embarrassment.

 

"It's okay, Stiles. You don't have to be embarrassed about anything, okay?" Derek reassured him, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head.

 

Stiles just nodded against his chest and Derek held him until he heard his mother calling them to come back inside. Derek promised that no matter what, he wouldn't let his mate be hurt by the Argents again.

 

...

 

End of eleventh chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

"All right. We're doing this outside and with adult supervision because _someone_ thinks I'll injure myself," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "So we have to wait for Frank to arrive before Stiles Stilinski's School for Werewolves officially begins."

 

Derek's cheeks went pink. "I didn't say that! I said it would be a good idea to have an adult present because this is dangerous."

 

"And I might hurt myself," Stiles added, knowing that Derek would've said it if he could.

 

Erica snickered and patted Derek's shoulder. "We'd all be the same if our mates were human, don't worry about it, Der-bear."

 

"I wouldn't," Isaac chirped. "Whoever my mate is can lose a finger or foot for being stupid."

 

"So now you're calling me stupid, is that it?" Stiles asked, folding his arms over his chest.

 

"What? No, not you. My mate!"

 

"I'm going to tell your mate that you think they're stupid. When you get a mate, that is," Erica added with a grin.

 

Isaac pouted and shoved at Erica, pushing her back a few steps. She growled back at him, eyes flashing gold and claws out a breath later.

 

"If you can't behave, I won't teach either of you a thing," Stiles threatened. "I can use mountain ash now, so I mean it."

 

"You don't have any mountain ash," Erica said, though she sounded hesitant.

 

"Stiles kept the bag Deaton gave him," Boyd said. "It's not as much as Deaton's jar, but it's enough to do as he says."

 

"You kept it?" Derek asked, eyes wide.

 

"Uh, yeah. Deaton never asked for the bag back, so I didn't offer," Stiles replied with a shrug and slight smirk. Then he frowned at Boyd. "How'd you know I kept it?"

 

"I saw the bulge in your shirt sleeve when you came back upstairs," he said, shrugging.

 

"I haven't scented it at all, where is it?" Derek asked, confused and somewhat annoyed that his sensitive nose hadn't picked the scent up at all in the last few days since Stiles' tests.

 

"I'll tell you later; I can't have _everyone_ knowing my hiding spots," Stiles said, patting his chest briefly. "Ah, there's Frank. Now that he's arrived, what kind of booby trap do you want to make?"

 

"There's more than one?" Isaac asked hesitantly.

 

"Yeah. There's heaps: some to alert to danger, others to capture people harmlessly, others to capture and cause pain, some to maim, others to cause damage, and some traps even to destroy completely."

 

"Perhaps you can leave the _destroy completely_ trap until it's necessary?" Frank suggested, eyebrows raised.

 

"Good idea. Might start basic for now," Stiles murmured, almost to himself. "So, danger alert. Trip wires are pretty basic, you can use floss and a bell in a pinch. If you've got actual wire, that's generally better 'cause it's harder to see in the dark. And flavoured floss can probably be scented by you lot, so non-flavoured would probably work best."

 

"Wait, go back to the floss and bell thing," Erica said. "How's that work?"

 

"Couple of ways; tie a bell to some floss, tie the floss on a door handle. If you hear the bell ringing, someone's coming in a door. Do the same on a window with the latch, or blu-tac it to the frame, even. For a trip wire, you need to put it through a walkway, obviously, but you'd need to either tie the floss to something or pin it up.

 

"Thumb tacks work better than blu-tac across a hallway, since the longer distance pulls at the floss and you'd freak out every three minutes with the damn thing falling off the wall. Using a thumb tack isn't too obvious, since it's rare for intruders to look at the bottom of walls for something like that," Stiles added. "Did you bring the wood, Isaac?"

 

Isaac winced and leapt up to run over to the wood pile.

 

"I raided your mum's stationery cupboard for thumb tacks. There's twenty of them, so you'll have to help me to make sure I've got all of them off the grass later. I'd hate for anyone to step on them, werewolf healing or not," Stiles said.

 

"I appreciate that," Frank said, grinning.

 

Isaac returned with several planks of wood and at Stiles' instruction, stuck two in the ground and one on top in a crude mockery of a doorframe.

 

"Please tell me you never wanted to be an architect when you were younger," Erica said, eyeing the pieces of wood warily.

 

"Funny," Isaac deadpanned, moving to sit beside Boyd again.

 

"All right, so I've got floss, thumb tacks, blu-tac, and a cat bell - which, seriously, where's the cat?" Stiles asked, looking to them curiously.

 

"It was on one of Cora's cat plush toys," Frank informed him.

 

"Ah, that's better than what I'd envisioned," Stiles said, grinning.

 

"Right, so it's always best to measure out your floss first, otherwise you just end up with bits of floss everywhere. So, either put the thumb tack through the floss, or use blu-tac to hold the floss, then use the thumb tack. I like to do this 'cause it means it's extra secure," he added, demonstrating sticking floss to a blob of blu-tac. "Flavoured floss has trouble with sticking, so wrap it around, then stick the thumb tack through, like so. When that's done, then you can stick it in the wall or doorframe, and measure out however much floss or wire you need."

 

Stiles stuck the thumb tack into the wood, pressing the flat disc of the pin in firmly. Above him, the wood wobbled slightly. Derek had a sudden fear of the wood pieces collapsing and crushing Stiles, and was on his feet a moment later, standing beside Stiles.

 

"I'll hold the frame," Derek said, trying to sound nonchalant and probably not succeeding.

 

"All right," Stiles said, shrugging. "Now, I measure this out, a bit longer than the actual frame so I have some floss to actually stick. Now what do I need to do?" he asked, looking to the group.

 

"Uh, blu-tac and stick it to the frame?" Erica asked, pointing out the obvious.

 

"Close, but no," Stiles said with a broad grin. "Anyone else?"

 

"The bell," Boyd said suddenly.

 

"Very good. Where to place the bell is important because if it's too obvious, it'll be seen, and the tripwire's going to be useless. If you thread it through the floss and leave it, it'll probably end up in the middle of the floss thanks to gravity or just pure dumb luck," Stiles added.

 

"Do you blu-tac it too?" Isaac asked.

 

Stiles shook his head. "I usually tie it up at one end to keep it where it's meant to stay. I tried to use a hot glue gun once, but I ended up with more glue on me than the bell."

 

"Just how long have you been making these traps?" Frank asked, curious.

 

"Bit over a year and a half," Stiles replied shortly, then shrugged. "I didn't have a lot to do after Scott joined Argent Artillery, so I did shit like this instead."

 

"It seems like a useful skill for one of the Artillery agents to have," Frank added, words cautious and careful.

 

Between them, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd all looked between Frank and Stiles. Beside Stiles, Derek finally lowered his arm from where he was still holding the frame, and bit back a whine, torn between confusion at his father's sudden question and a desire to defend his mate.

 

"Yeah, that's what I thought at first, too. I learnt the basics of this sort of stuff, applied to the Artillery, and they rejected me without even looking at my application. In fact, Kate burned my application in front of me, just to rub salt in my wounds," Stiles replied, voice curt and biting back at a flash of hurt at the memory. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me, actually, because I knew then that I'd _never_ be good enough for them, no matter what I did or learnt. So I made sure I'd be good enough for _myself_ instead.

 

"I spent every waking minute outside of school - and some time inside of it, when I was bored by the heavily censored curriculum," he admitted, " - learning how to do this sort of stuff so that the day I could legally get on a bus out of town, I'd be able to escape into the forest and survive, no matter what."

 

"You were going to leave escape into the forest?" Isaac asked, eyes wide in surprise.

 

Stiles nodded. "I was a target, being my father's son. Then, after I insulted Gerard in front of Kate, Dad was a target because he was my father. I wanted to protect him, to keep him as safe as I could, and I could only do that by leaving him. Or so I thought," he added with a hollow laugh.

 

"It's all right, Stiles. It wasn't an interrogation," Frank said, voice soft as he walked up to Stiles and held his arm, black lines trekking up almost immediately.

 

Stiles wrenched his arm away. "I'm fine. If you're finished with the accusations, I'd like to keep teaching. There's more to cover than one simple tripwire."

 

Frank nodded and moved back to his spot behind the betas.

 

Stiles took a deep breath to steady his emotions, then continued. "Right, so tying the floss on to the bell can be a pain if it's slippery or you're nervous, which happens, especially when you're under pressure, but tie it the best you can, then add blu-tac if you need. Just don't cover the bell itself, or it'll be useless," he said, launching back into his explanation at a fast pace.

 

Again, he demonstrated by tying the bell to the far end of the floss, giving it a test ring to make sure it worked, and then tacked the end onto the empty side of the frame.

 

"All right, who wants to give it a shot?" Stiles asked, looking to them.

 

"That tripwire's pretty high up. How high does it normally need to be?" Isaac asked, trying to think of the height of his foot and how much space he'd need to trip over the wire.

 

Stiles gave a short nod to acknowledge Isaac's question, and he set up another tripwire at a more appropriate height in less than a minute.

 

"Geez, how fast did you do that?" Erica asked, sitting up straight and her eyes wide.

 

"My fastest time is thirty-eight seconds, but that was with wire, not floss," Stiles said, shrugging. "As a general rule, intruders don't take huge steps when they're sneaking about, so I wouldn't make it higher than the width of your hand. With this setup, it shouldn't matter if they step on or trip over it, just as long as it's disturbed."

 

"What about the deodorant and lighter one you had set up in your home?" Derek asked. "Is that different in the way it's disturbed?"

 

Stiles seemed surprised that Derek had remembered, but gave a slight nod. "Kind of. It needed to be dislodged completely for the trap to work, but I'd made it sensitive enough that kicking it would dislodge the floss completely.

 

"I set the spray on the deodorant can to stay down, and if the floss was tripped over, it would have removed the blu-tac on the nozzle that held the spray back. I set up a Zippo lighter right in front of the spray nozzle, and I'd changed the lighter's flint wheel so it would strike constantly as well as instantly, like Zippos already do. Dislodging the floss would remove the Zippo lid, and they'd get a flamethrower to the face for as long as the deodorant and flint lasted," Stiles said with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

Derek was extremely glad he hadn't disturbed the floss.

 

"Okay, there's two tripwires up now. Someone can set off the top one, and then someone else can set off the bottom one. Any volunteers?"

 

Boyd stood up and nodded. Derek waited until Stiles was out of the way before lowering his arm again, the resulting rush of blood making his fingertips tingle for a brief moment. Isaac waited behind Boyd to be the next volunteer, and Erica and Frank watched curiously.

 

Stepping over the bottom trap completely, Boyd set off the top trap, the bell ringing clearly as it knocked on the frame and fell.

 

"Nice. Now, Isaac, just wait a minute; Boyd, see if you can set one up," Stiles said, nodding to the basket of floss, blu-tac, and bells.

 

Boyd took almost five minutes to set his up, tying everything with large careful fingers, not as nimble or as fast as Stiles, but no one had expected him to be.

 

"Erica, set it off and start setting up your floss and bell while Isaac sets off the bottom one. Sorry to knock you back," Stiles added to Isaac with a clap on the shoulder.

 

Isaac didn't mind and simply shrugged in response. He watched as Erica set off Boyd's trap, Erica trying to snag the bell before it rang, but only managing to capture the floss and set the bell off further instead.

 

"Oh, nice try. Maybe next time," Stiles said with a grin.

 

By the time they'd all successfully made a trip wire trap - Frank included - Talia called them from the house for lunch. Stiles made sure he had all twenty thumb tacks before scooping up the bits of floss that had floated off in the wind and followed the rest of the werewolf pack into the house.

 

...

 

After lunch, Stiles forbade everyone from entering the kitchen, since he'd promised Susan to bring brownies for dessert. Derek looked heartbroken at being included in Stiles' demand, but Cora tugged him away to spend time with him and Stiles didn't feel quite so bad.

 

Triple-choc brownies were his mother's dessert specialty and Stiles had spent years perfecting them to make them the most decadent brownies anyone had ever eaten. Well, that's what Tara at the station had claimed, at least.

 

The brownies were ready and iced well before they had to leave to Peter and Susan's home, and Stiles guarded the kitchen with all the ferocity of a dragon guarding its' hoard, glowering at Isaac when he tried to sneak down the hallway and watching as the curly-haired werewolf left just as quickly.

 

Finally, it was time to leave, and Talia looked amused when Stiles stood up from his guarding post to stretch and crack his aching body.

 

"Your brownies certainly smell worthy of being guarded for almost three straight hours, Stiles. I cannot wait to try them," Talia said, smiling.

 

"You're not the only one," Erica called with a laugh. "Race you there, boys!"

 

"Not fair, you're already downstairs!" Isaac called, racing down the stairs to catch up.

 

Boyd was after them in a shot, and Talia shook her head at her excitable betas before following after them with Frank and Cora.

 

Derek waited for Stiles at the door, impatient to see him after having his attention domineered by Cora all afternoon.

 

"Why're you looking so sour?" Stiles asked, walking down the front steps with a large tray.

 

Derek didn't reply, moving so he was pressed against Stiles' side, nuzzling against the curve of his neck and shoulder. When he pulled away, Stiles grinned at him and used his elbow to nudge Derek towards Peter and Susan's home.

 

They arrived to hear laughter and talking, Isaac crowing his victory over Boyd and Erica while Frank made faces at the twins to make them laugh, and Talia talked with Susan and Peter.

 

"I hope you've made a meal worthy of your punishment, Peter," Stiles said, grinning at the older werewolf.

 

"Oh, but I wouldn't want to take away from your delicious-smelling dessert," Peter replied, eyeing off the tray hungrily.

 

Susan glared at her husband. "Those are mine; don't even _think_ about it, Peter!"

 

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling," he replied, making a show of kissing her and crossing his fingers behind his back.

 

"Go, before dinner's burnt," she said, licking her lips and shooing him away to the kitchen.

 

Peter grinned smugly and sauntered away.

 

"It's difficult to take him seriously while he's wearing a 'bite the cook' apron," Stiles muttered.

 

Susan hummed, lifting the tea towel to look at the brownies properly. "Oh, I will be eating all of you up as soon as dinner's finished."

 

"I do hope you're talking about the brownies, dear," Peter called from the kitchen.

 

Derek rolled his eyes at his dork of an uncle, and guided Stiles to the dining room where he could set the tray down safely. As soon as the tray was out of Stiles' hands, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, rubbing his cheek against his neck.

 

"You 'kay?" Stiles asked, patting his arm.

 

"Missed you."

 

"It was only an afternoon, big guy," Stiles murmured, then sighed. "I missed you too."

 

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles' neck and wished the evening was already over so they could be alone in bed together. In his arms, Stiles squirmed around until they were face to face, and he stood up a little taller to kiss Derek firmly.

 

"Come on; the faster we get dinner done, the faster we get home," Stiles murmured, hoping his words weren't loud enough to be heard by the others.

 

He didn't want to insult Peter and Susan, especially not the first time in their home, but as Derek looked so pleased at Stiles' words, he couldn't truly bring himself to regret them. Derek kissed him once more, then led Stiles back through the house to the rest of the pack.

 

Peter arrived minutes later, tea towel over his shoulder, apron spotless, and informed them that dinner was ready. Isaac was the first out of the room, all but running to the dining room. Erica and Boyd weren't far behind, Cora rushing after them eagerly. Frank smiled and offered Talia his arm to follow them. Susan laughed at the betas' excitement as she picked Tommy and Robbie up, passing by her husband with a quick kiss to his cheek. Peter looked after her fondly, and didn't even try to snap his jaws at Derek like he usually did when he and Stiles passed.

 

"Peter, you've outdone yourself. It looks lovely," Talia said, smiling at her brother when he entered the dining room last.

 

Stiles wasn't sure if 'lovely' quite covered the spread that Peter had made. The table held three roast chickens, each with a different stuffing; a leg of lamb, another of pork; several types of vegetables, salads, and sauces; and at least four ways of using potato - bake, salad, mash, wedges. There was barely enough room for the plates, but no one was complaining. Stiles' mouth was watering at the sight of the food, and on seeing Isaac's impatient look, he nudged Derek forward so they could take their seats.

 

"Thank you, dearest sister. Tomorrow dinner will be leftovers, so don't eat it all," Peter added.

 

"Peter!"

 

"I made enough for two nights, darling; I just couldn't be bothered going through the whole _cooking_ process again," Peter said, smirking a bit at his wife's scandalised expression. "The terms of my punishment never stated that I had to cook two nights in a row, just enough for two nights."

 

Susan shook her head at him. "Just for that, you get to serve dinner for everyone."

 

"Of course; I couldn't bear it if my lovely dinner was massacred by an inexperienced carver."

 

Stiles bit his tongue, unsure if he was offended at the insinuation that he couldn't cut up a damn chicken, or if he wanted to laugh at Peter's obvious attempt to get someone else to offer and make them cut up the chickens instead.

 

Everyone had vast more experience with Peter's behaviour and simply sat quietly. After a moment more of silence, Peter sighed heavily, then picked up the knife and scissors to cut into the first chicken.

 

Dinner was served in a matter of minutes, everyone talking over each other to get this salad or those vegetables, laughter as Isaac ended up holding two bowls while Erica and Frank spooned out their helpings.

 

"Now, pack mothers, what's your verdict of my meal?" Peter asked after the meal, looking from Frank to Stiles.

 

"I've had better," Frank teased, a smile twitching on his lips.

 

"That's what she - "

 

" _Erica_ ," Talia intoned, eyebrow raised, though it was spoiled by Stiles' snort of laughter.

 

"Sorry, Alpha Talia," Erica replied, though she grinned over at Stiles.

 

"It's good; lots of choice, and you've put a lot of effort into it," Stiles said, realising that Peter was waiting for a response.

 

"If I'd known we were scoring á la _The Greatest Chef_ , I would've made up scorecards," Frank said, grinning outright now.

 

"The initial presentation was perfect, but on the plate, it was messy, and I expected better from you," Isaac said, obviously imitating one of the TV show's judges.

 

"That was Judge Eli, wasn't it?" Erica asked him.

 

"Of course it was. If I'd wanted to imitate Judge Frey, I'd have to pitch my voice _much higher_ ," Isaac said, his voice bordering on squirrel.

 

Tommy giggled loudly, setting his brother off, mashed potato dribbling out of Robbie's mouth.

 

"You think Isaac's funny, do you?" Peter murmured, scooping Tommy out of his high chair to tickle him.

 

"Mama," Robbie called, fisting his hands towards her to be picked up too.

 

Susan picked him up, pressing noisy kisses to his face, making him giggle along with his twin. She looked over her son to Peter and grinned.

 

"I think I'd like dessert now, dear."

 

"Of course," Peter said with a bow, Tommy giggling as he was almost dropped to the ground.

 

Stiles allowed Peter to serve the brownies, smiling when Cora practically stuffed her whole slice in her mouth in one shot. Susan looked about ready to do the same, but helped Robbie and Tommy with their own slices first. Peter took over when he had finished serving, allowing his wife to finally eat the dessert she'd been craving for days.

 

"Ohmygod, I'm leaving you and the kids for this brownie, Peter," Susan said with a laugh, trying to steal the brownie from her husband's plate.

 

Peter raised an eyebrow and held onto his plate firmly. "Your mother's leaving us for a dessert, boys. I think that's cause for concern."

 

"Oh, don't act so serious when you've got brownie smeared on your face," Susan replied.

 

Peter frowned. "I haven't even started eating - " he said, getting cut off abruptly as Susan smeared some of her brownie on his cheek.

 

"No food fights with dessert, please," Talia said, though she was smiling at her brother's fate.

 

"Hey, Boyd, you going to finish that?" Isaac asked, nodding to his brownie.

 

"Just try it, Lahey, I'll rip your claws off," Boyd snarled.

 

Stiles blinked in surprise at the hostility in Boyd's voice, but no one else seemed surprised or even put off.

 

"Right, forgot about your sweet tooth. Sorry," Isaac eeped, putting his hands up in a sign of defeat.

 

"No threats over the dessert either, while we're at it," Talia said, looking between her betas.

 

Beside her, Frank nodded seriously, but the act was spoiled by the chocolate on either side of his mouth.

 

In a matter of minutes, the tray of brownies were devoured. Susan let out a small groan of disgust and satisfaction at her over-indulgence.

 

"I want another batch, but at the same time, I don't want to see brownies again for another week," Susan muttered.

 

"I can give you the recipe, if you'd like?" Stiles offered.

 

"Can I eat the recipe?" Susan asked, grinning.

 

"Not recommended; too many calories," he replied seriously.

 

Susan cackled, then groaned. "No, no laughing. Laughing is bad," she groaned. "Peter, you'll have to carry me upstairs; I don't think I can walk."

 

"If you'll care to recall the last time we attempted that, dearest, you might reconsider."

 

" _Weak_ ," Susan teased.

 

"Story time!" Cora said, looking between her parents and Susan and Peter.

 

"All right, Cor, story time," Peter agreed, looking over to Boyd, who nodded. "But first, bath time."

 

Tommy and Robbie squirmed and made noises of unhappiness at Peter's announcement.

 

Peter stood, taking Tommy and Robbie out of their high chairs. "The sooner you're clean, the sooner Boyd can start story time," he cajoled, slowly quietening them.

 

Cora looked at her parents, eyes wide at the prospect of needing _another_ bath today. Frank winked at her and picked her up, stating that he'd take her upstairs to at least clean her face and sticky hands. Peter followed upstairs with the twins.

 

"I suppose I'd better be productive and clear the table," Susan said, looking at the mess of plates and half-finished platters.

 

No one had wanted to risk going hungry the next night, and had left enough for leftovers.

 

"I'll help," Isaac offered, Erica echoing his offer.

 

The three of them left a moment later, laden with all of the dishes and plates stacked.

 

"Boyd, why don't you show me which book you're going to read to the twins and Cora tonight?" Talia suggested, standing and following Boyd, leaving Stiles and Derek alone.

 

"I think I need to get cleaned up too. Do I have chocolate in my teeth?" Stiles asked, smiling at Derek.

 

"Yes, actually," Derek replied. "And you've smeared chocolate here too," he said, tapping his own cheek to demonstrate.

 

Stiles rubbed at his opposite cheek, and Derek shook his head.

 

"Not there, here," he said, taking a napkin to wipe at his cheek gently.

 

"Sure it's just not a mole?" Stiles asked with a brief grin.

 

"I'm sure," Derek replied, grinning and showing Stiles the dirty napkin. His gaze flicked to the moles along Stiles' cheek and jawline, and moved in to press a quick kiss to one.

 

"What was that for?" Stiles asked, surprised.

 

"Checking if it was chocolate," Derek said, his eyes alight with mischief.

 

Stiles laughed and drew Derek in for a quick kiss of his own. "Think anyone'll notice if we skip Boyd's storytime?"

 

"Probably, but go anyway. You're going to defile the house with that scent," Peter said from the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and damp anyway.

 

"Why aren't you with the twins?" Derek asked pointedly.

 

"Robbie's refusing to bathe without his sippy cup in immediate sight," Peter said, scooping both Robbie and Tommy's cups from the table, as he knew that Tommy would want his as soon as Robbie had his. "If you leave now, no one will notice until the twins are ready for the story."

 

"Your getaway plan has a large flaw in it, Peter," Stiles replied.

 

"And that is?"

 

"We're in a house with werewolves, and the door's open," Stiles said, smirking smugly.

 

As if to prove her brother wrong, Talia stood in the doorway behind him a heartbeat later. "Stiles is right, of course. But on the other hand, Peter is as well. Go home and have some time to yourselves; privacy on this scale a rarity so someone ought to enjoy it," she added with a smile, holding the door open for them.

 

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed Derek's hand and tugged him out of the dining room and to the front of the house. They both ignored Peter's remark about airing out the house, though Derek's cheeks reddened. As soon as they were off the front porch, Derek picked Stiles up and ran to his home, and straight upstairs to his room.

 

"We're never discussing the fact that your mother basically told us to go make out, okay? Never," Stiles said, then pulled Derek to him.

 

Derek didn't even have time to be mortified at the realisation, as all of his focus was purely on Stiles. He could taste the chocolate from dessert, scent Stiles' building arousal, and practically feel the urgency that poured from him. Derek wasn't much better himself, needing Stiles' mouth and his moles and his hands and his tongue and _why was he wearing so many layers_?!

 

Eventually, Stiles pulled away, his lips swollen, eyes half-lidded shut, and breathing heavily. Derek almost whined at the loss of contact, burying his face to the long column of Stiles' neck just so he could breathe in his scent again. He pressed kisses up along Stiles' neck, then kissed each of his moles as well.

 

"Oh, shit, _my teeth_. Oh, that must be seriously gross. I'll be right back," Stiles promised, pulling away completely and heading to the ensuite before Derek could protest.

 

Derek followed, figuring he could brush his teeth as well. Stiles was leaning over the basin to peer at the mirror, brushing at particularly stubborn place in his gums. Derek couldn't stop staring at the curve of Stiles' ass, the way he looked while almost lewdly bent over the basin. He crowded up behind Stiles, startling him, but before Stiles could say or do anything, Derek had latched his mouth on to Stiles' neck, sucking and gently biting to mark him. Stiles' aroused scent skyrocketed and as Derek laved at the reddened skin with his tongue, Stiles ground his hips back against Derek's, clutching the basin with his toothbrush in a white-knuckled grip. Thoroughly fascinated at the blush that crawled its way up Stiles' chest and neck, Derek almost forgot about his own plans to brush his teeth.

 

"Seriously, you've gotta stop looking at me like that when I've got toothpaste on my chin," Stiles muttered, leaning over the sink to rinse and spit, his ass pressing back against Derek firmly.

 

" _Stiles_ ," he said, hardly recognising his own voice with such a deep resonant growl.

 

"Yeah, big guy?" Stiles replied innocently, his eyes wide.

 

Derek was going to bite his claiming mark again, right then and there. His wolf howled for it, scrabbling at him to do this, his eyes flashing gold, and his claws elongating against Stiles' hips. Where most people - humans from the Argent-led Beacon Hills, especially - would be terrified at the sight, Stiles didn't seem at all concerned.

 

"It's really difficult to take you seriously with chocolate in your teeth, y'know," Stiles said, grinning with his own teeth chocolate-free.

 

Derek didn't move, keeping Stiles in position against the basin, and he reached over for his toothbrush, his claws still extended. He wet the bristles, added toothpaste, and started brushing, the paste foaming in his mouth almost instantly.

 

"You're not really going to keep me trapped here while you brush your teeth, are you?" Stiles asked.

 

Derek raised an eyebrow and kept brushing his teeth pointedly.

 

"Fine, but next time, you're the one who's getting the basin digging into their hips, all right? This is probably going to bruise me," he muttered, looking down to where the basin met his hips.

 

Behind him Derek stepped back immediately, and tugged Stiles around, lifting his shirt to check his skin. A red mark had appeared, a line indented into his skin, and Derek kept the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he investigated the bumps with his hands.

 

"You're acting like you've never seen this before, big guy. Seriously, it's the same as waking up with pillow marks, no big deal," Stiles promised.

 

Derek shook his head, then stood, spat into the basin and rinsed his brush and mouth before turning to look at Stiles once more. "Werewolves don't get pillow marks, Stiles, or marks from basins, for that matter. Are you sure it's all right?" he asked, looking to his stomach again.

 

"Yeah, big guy, positive. Look, it'll be gone in like half an hour or something ridiculous like that. I'm not made of glass, so don't you dare treat me like I am," Stiles added sternly.

 

"I know you're not; I won't," Derek promised.

 

"Good. Now, let's go back to making out. And maybe put a towel down on the basin next time."

 

"Are you sure you want there to be a next time?" he asked.

 

"Hell yes. Sooner rather than later," Stiles added with a grin and wink, then pulled Derek out of the bathroom, and sat them on the bed.

 

Despite Derek's promise, he did feel wary of being rough with Stiles at first. Stiles realised he was still freaking out on some level, gave a small growl, and bit the curve of Derek's neck firmly. His neck throbbed in pain for a few seconds, and Derek concentrated on not letting himself heal yet.

 

"Stop thinking so much, and _kiss me_ ," Stiles said firmly.

 

Well, Derek couldn't bring himself to deny that demand. He held Stiles' hips, claws extended once more, and kissed Stiles eagerly. Stiles made breathy little noises against and into his mouth, Derek taking each one as though they were precious gifts bestowed upon him.

 

When they pulled away again, Stiles tugged at Derek's shirt impatiently. Derek raised an eyebrow, looking to Stiles' own clothes. Stiles only hesitated for a moment before he pulled off his shirts and jacket, throwing them to the floor. Derek pressed a kiss to the mole on Stiles' shoulder, then took his own shirt off and unbuttoned his jeans as well.

 

"Ngnh," Stiles sounded breathlessly, the noise caught in his throat as he stared at Derek's hands, his unbuttoned jeans and the bulge of his cock, the outline already hard and visible.

 

Derek caressed the hickey he'd left on Stiles earlier, the skin already turning purple. Stiles licked his swollen lips and put his hand over Derek's, stroking his fingers. He looked to Derek's neck and saw the bruise forming.

 

"Derek, you're... you're not healing. What's wrong?" he asked, eyes wide.

 

"It's okay, I can postpone it," Derek replied with a warm smile.

 

Stiles' eyebrows raised at that tidbit, and then he grinned wickedly. "Stay still," he said firmly.

 

Then, without word or warning, Stiles attacked Derek's neck and collarbones with his mouth, his teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Derek's head lolled back and he held Stiles to him, his fingers firm in his hair. Eventually, Stiles pulled away, pressing kisses to the bite marks and bruises he'd created, tugging at Derek's arm so he could see his handiwork properly.

 

"How long will it stay like that?" he asked, brushing his fingertips along the wet mess.

 

"I don't know. I don't - I mean, I don't usually postpone healing. There's never been a reason to, before," Derek added, blushing.

 

Stiles smiled, moving his hands up to cup Derek's face. He kissed him slowly, luxuriously, his tongue sliding against his slowly.

 

"Thank you, Derek. You can let yourself heal now, I want to see how long it takes to heal fresh hickeys," Stiles said.

 

Derek nodded and let go of the hold he had on his healing ability, watching as Stiles' eyes widened at the rapid loss of bruises and marks on his skin. He didn't immediately attack Derek's neck when he was all healed, and Derek was surprised to see how hesitant Stiles looked, despite the fact that he'd started to gyrate his hips against Derek's subconsciously.

 

"What's wrong, Stiles?"

 

"You don't mind if I use you for this?" Stiles asked. "I mean, we can go back to making out, or just cuddling. I don't have to test this, it's kinda stupid."

 

Derek shook his head. "I don't mind. I like that you want to know so much about... uh, werewolves," he admitted.

 

"Nah, big guy, this is all you. I don't care how long it takes the others to heal from hickeys," Stiles said with a teasing lilt.

 

Derek grinned and brought Stiles' hand up to kiss his palm. "Then I'm honoured."

 

Stiles snorted a laugh and kissed Derek once more before moving his mouth to his neck, a smile on his lips.

 

They spent the rest of the night making out lazily, touching and caressing and kissing, and just generally being with each other, losing their clothes over the course of the night. By the time they fell asleep, Derek wrapped around Stiles, and Stiles' face buried against Derek's chest, they'd discovered that the fastest Derek could heal a hickey was three seconds.

 

...

 

End of twelfth chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

Derek woke up in the morning, stretching lazily, and looking around blearily to find out where Stiles had gone. He hadn't gone too far, sitting in the armchair with one of Deaton's books in his lap, the other books sitting on the armrests on either side of him.

 

"What time is it?" he murmured, surprised that he'd slept through Stiles getting up; he was usually a much lighter sleeper.

 

"About six. I tried not to wake you," Stiles said.

 

"You didn't, s'okay," Derek promised and smiled a little dopily, remembering their late night making out. "Want to cuddle?"

 

Stiles looked surprised at Derek's question, but he nodded, quick and eager. He set the book aside carefully, marking his page with a bookmark, and practically launched himself back onto the bed. Derek caught him, pulling Stiles on top of him, and buried his head against the curve of his neck.

 

"Ooh, you're warm. Didn't realise how cold I was," Stiles murmured, wriggling until he was comfortable. He stopped suddenly, Derek opening one eye and sniffing to determine if he was okay. "Uh, you're naked. I forgot."

 

Derek just closed his eyes and hummed in response, not worried or ashamed in the slightest. He continued to cuddle Stiles, warm breaths tickling against Stiles' neck. Stiles sighed against him, stroking Derek's shoulders where he could, and closed his eyes.

 

"This is nice."

 

"Mm. Shut up," Derek murmured against his skin.

 

Stiles snorted, but quietened down and closed his eyes.

 

...

 

Cora was restless, growling any time anyone went near her, and even growled when Frank tried to encourage her to eat her breakfast. Talia ended up flashing red eyes at her daughter to calm her, and Cora let out a wail that woke the rest of the house.

 

"What'sitnoise?" Stiles mumbled against Derek's chest.

 

"Cora. Her wolf's growing at a faster rate than she is. She'll settle again soon," Derek promised, eyes still shut.

 

"Mmmkay - wait, what?" Stiles asked, more alert now, leaning up on his forearm to look down at Derek. "Explanation needed, big guy. Her _wolf_ is growing faster than she is?"

 

Derek opened one eye to see Stiles watching him, impatient for an answer.

 

"Well, wolves don't age the same way humans do. Put two souls in one body, it takes a while for them to cooperate. First ten years are hardest, then puberty hits and things settle down. Cora'll be all right next year," he said, yawning.

 

"Two souls? Seriously?"

 

"S'how Mum always explained it," Derek murmured.

 

"Wait, Cora's nine?"

 

"In human years. At the moment," he added, voice muffled against the pillow.

 

"Dude, she looks like she's four, five at most."

 

"She was a runt when she was born. Don't ever repeat that, she might claw me to death," Derek added, wincing.

 

Stiles nodded distractedly, still thinking over Derek's words. He shook his head and lay down again, deciding he'd get more answers from Talia later. Derek sleepily tugged Stiles closer and wove an arm around his body, his hand splayed against Stiles' back. His deep breaths soon indicated that he was asleep again.

 

Remembering Deaton's instructions to meditate, Stiles closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, letting his body relax in increments. He felt himself drifting, not quite asleep, but not really awake anymore either. Stiles listened to Derek sleeping, his heartbeat steady and firm, the thoughts in his mind slipping away and filling with nothing but the sound of Derek's heartbeat.

 

...

 

Stiles spent the rest of the weekend reading Deaton's books, tabbing pages with coloured sticky notes as he chewed on a pen. He had a notebook beside whichever book he was reading at that moment (sometimes it got lost between or inside other books, but that was neither here nor there) so he could write important notes without damaging Deaton's precious books.

 

Derek went in and out of the bedroom several times throughout the day, though Stiles seemed oblivious to his presence entirely. Derek had tried looking over Stiles' shoulder at the books, but they didn't make any sense, and Stiles' notebook made even less sense, even though he thought it was written in English.

 

Lunch came and went without Stiles making an appearance, and Derek took a sandwich or two up for Stiles to eat while he continued to read. Stiles' plate was empty by the time Derek returned to the bedroom after his gym session with Boyd, but it didn't look as though he'd turned his gaze away from the books. Derek sat on his armchair and took the opportunity to read a book of his own. He looked up every now and then to ensure Stiles was still in the room, kept his ears focused on the turn of the pages, the light scratch of Stiles' pencil on paper.

 

Another of Cora's wails ripped through the air, this one loud enough to jolt Stiles from his book and he blinked a few times, looking around the room as if surprised it was still there.

 

"Cora okay?" he asked, voice raspy.

 

Derek watched as Stiles licked his lips, reluctantly tearing his gaze away to look at him properly. "She's all right. It's time for her bath; she's been in the forest with Dad all day."

 

"Oh. What time is it?"

 

"Almost six. Dinner's at Peter's in half an hour."

 

"Oh yeah. Ooh, shit," Stiles groaned as he stood up slowly, his bones and body creaking and cracking in several places.

 

"Are you in pain?"

 

"Just been sitting too long. I completely lost track of time," Stiles said with a laugh, looking at the books strewn across the floor. "Geez, I'm surprised you didn't drag me out of here."

 

"I think you would've kept reading if I'd tried," Derek said, grinning. "Interesting books?"

 

"Yeah, there's... There's a shitload to learn, and I've got so many questions. Kind of want it to be next week already just so I can get answers."

 

"Peter might have some answers; he likes to have philosophical discussions with Dr. Deaton. I think he's just trying to get a response out of Deaton," Derek admitted with another grin.

 

Stiles laughed outright, stepping over and around his precariously-stacked books to get to his pile of clothes and then to the bathroom. "Did you bring me a sandwich earlier?" he asked over his shoulder.

 

"Yes. Did you actually eat it?"

 

"I think I did. I remember chewing, at least."

 

"Are you sure it wasn't your pen?"

 

"Hmm, pretty sure. I know I didn't taste ink," Stiles replied, sounding as if it was a regular occurrence.

 

Seeing the pen lid that was chewed beyond recognition, Derek didn't doubt it.

 

Stiles returned a moment later, his face washed and changed into clean clothes.

 

"Hey, you guys ready to go? Isaac's been sulking all day," Erica called.

 

"Have not! Shut up, Erica!" Isaac called back.

 

"Make me, curly!" she said with a laugh, running outside towards Peter and Susan's home.

 

"Blondie!"

 

"You're blonde as well, Isaac," Boyd pointed out.

 

Stiles didn't get a chance to ask why Isaac had been sulking because the moment he stepped out of the bedroom, he was attacked by a gangly mess of curls.

 

"Hi, Stiles. Did you eat enough for lunch? I told Derek to take up three sandwiches, but he didn't listen," Isaac said.

 

"Two sandwiches were enough. Also, hi. Can I get my upper torso back now?"

 

Isaac took a moment to consider his request and then slowly untangled himself from Stiles' upper body. Derek looked like he was restraining himself from plastering himself on Stiles to replace his pack mate's scent. Boyd rolled his eyes, grabbed Isaac and carried him downstairs. Along the way, he gave Derek a gentle shove towards Stiles; by the time Derek straightened up, Boyd and Isaac were gone from view. Stiles snickered when he heard Isaac complaining about being carried, only to change his tune when they were outside and in earshot of Erica.

 

"Come on, let's get down there before they do something stupid without us," Stiles said, grabbing Derek's hand and guiding him downstairs.

 

They stepped outside to see Erica and Isaac wrestling on the grass. Boyd was either refereeing or being a spectator, Stiles wasn't sure.

 

"So you're not having dinner then?" Stiles called, heading towards Peter and Susan's home with Derek.

 

Derek wasn't subtle in the slightest when he put an arm around Stiles to scent him.

 

"We'll finish our fight and still beat you there!" Erica called back, laughing with long claws and yellow eyes.

 

"Bet you won't!" Stiles said, starting to run now.

 

Erica and Isaac realised what he was doing and turned to run after him, Boyd beside them. Derek picked Stiles up, keeping him close to his chest, and ran the last few metres to the porch. Isaac was less than a second behind them, yellow eyes bright.

 

"We win!" Stiles crowed.

 

"Not fair; Derek carried you!" Erica said when she and Boyd arrived a moment later.

 

"Doesn't mean we didn't win."

 

"Double negative," Boyd pointed out, grinning.

 

"Fine. We still won."

 

"What are you children doing?" Peter asked, shaking his head at them as he opened the front door.

 

"I was rounding up the 'wolves for dinner," Stiles quipped, winking.

 

Peter laughed at the werewolves' expressions. "You did a fine job of it, Stiles. Come inside before your dinner gets cold."

 

They all trekked inside to the dining room. Tommy and Robbie babbled at Boyd incoherently, waving with tiny fists. He grinned and waved back at them.

 

"Dinner is served, dig in," Peter announced, bringing in the final platter of food and uncovering the rest of the dishes.

 

"This is a completely different meal, Peter," Talia said, raising an eyebrow at her brother.

 

"Well, of course it is. I couldn't serve my dearest Alpha and pack _leftovers_ , now could I?" Peter replied, looking amused.

 

"But... I didn't have thirds last night!" Isaac said, eyes wide.

 

"Yes, and my future meal thanks you for it," Peter replied lightly, reaching over to serve his wife from the nearest plate.

 

Isaac scowled down at his plate. He waited for Talia and Frank to serve their own meals before he asked for the curried sausages and rice.

 

Stiles' mind drifted back to his readings, thinking of the questions he wanted to ask, the spells, potions, and charms he'd read about. He was already itching to try them out, but he knew that Talia wouldn't let him do anything unsupervised. Some of the spells, potions, and charms had the consequences listed beside them, while others remained void of Deaton's careful handwriting. Stiles wasn't sure if it was because they had no consequences, or if they were things that not even Deaton had attempted.

 

"Stiles," Talia said, touching his wrist to get his attention.

 

Stiles startled at her gentle touch, almost sending his fork flying. He set it in the proper place and looked at her. "Sorry."

 

"That's all right. I was just asking if you would like some food," she said, nodding to his empty plate.

 

"Oh, right. Thanks," Stiles said, reaching out to take the serving spoon from the bowl of rice.

 

As he did so, Cora let out a cry of pain, drawing attention from the others to soothe her. The spoon leapt from the bowl into Stiles' hand without him actually grabbing it and he stared at it for a long moment.

 

"Stiles? Is everything all right?" Talia asked, frowning when she saw the white-knuckled grip he had on the serving spoon.

 

"Uh. Fine. Everything's fine," he said, obviously lying.

 

Talia wanted to call him out on his lie, but decided to do ask Stiles about it after dinner instead; _perhaps something was wrong and he didn't want the others to know?_

 

Stiles let go of the serving spoon, his hand aching. He ate his dinner with a similar determination he'd focused on his books, not looking up, and definitely _not_ staring at serving spoons that magically jumped into people's hands.

 

...

 

Derek paced in front of his bedroom door, clenching and unclenching his hands, completely at a loss for what to do. Stiles had left soon after dinner. He said he didn't feel well, and while he hadn't been lying, Derek hadn't been able to smell anything wrong with him. Now, almost two hours later, Derek wasn't sure if he should go into his room or if he should just sleep downstairs to give Stiles some privacy.

 

 _Maybe Stiles had a headache? Those weren't detectable by werewolves' noses_ , Derek reasoned with himself. _But if Stiles did have a headache, surely he wouldn't want to be disturbed?_

 

Before Derek could exile himself to the lounge room, his bedroom door opened. Stiles looked out, a little pale and clutching the pen beside him like it was a weapon. He pulled Derek inside, mostly with the advantage of surprise, and shut the door behind him firmly.

 

"Stiles? Are you okay?" Derek asked, sniffing and failing to get anything other than Stiles' excitement and... _fear?_

 

Stiles laughed somewhat hysterically. "I can't get it to stop."

 

"What?"

 

"The pen. It won't stop floating and there's nothing to reverse it! I've looked in nearly every book, and I can't make it stop floating," Stiles said, letting go of the pen.

 

Derek stared at the floating pen for a moment, expecting it to drop like Wiley Coyote: not at all and then all at once. It didn't.

 

Stiles started pacing, hands expressive as he talked at a fast pace. "I didn't do it on purpose, I was just... thinking! I swear. I know Talia would hate me for doing this without supervision, but I honestly didn't mean to do it!" His heart was racing at a faster speed than should be possible, but there was no telltale skip.

 

Derek grabbed Stiles by the shoulders, stopping his movement. "Stiles, breathe. It's all right. Mum won't hate you, okay?"

 

Stiles' vision was starting to go spotty. He wondered if this was a delayed panic attack, everything building up in the weeks since his father's death.

 

 _If that was true then this would be a panic attack to end all panic attacks_ , he thought a little hysterically. He tried to gulp for air, but couldn't swallow the oxygen down properly. It felt like thick syrup in his mouth, clogging at the back of his throat and choking him.

 

Derek's face swum in his vision. Stiles vaguely noted that Derek looked like he was worried and panicking as well. Then Derek looked determined and pulled Stiles close, kissing him firmly. A rush of air flew into his mouth and Stiles finally breathed again, the syrupy sensation being replaced with the taste of Derek instead.

 

Derek pulled away, looking into Stiles' eyes to see if he was responsive this time. He didn't seem as pale now, but Derek didn't know if that was good or bad. He had no idea if he'd helped or made things worse.

 

"Thanks. How'd you know what to do?" Stiles asked, slowly sinking down to the floor.

 

The pen spun lazily, still floating above his head.

 

"I... I didn't. I had no idea it would work. I just... It didn't look like you were breathing, so I tried breathing for you. Are you okay?" Derek asked, dropping to his knees in front of Stiles and pulling him close.

 

Stiles nodded into Derek's shoulder awkwardly.

 

"I was terrified," Derek admitted after a long moment of breathing and silence. "I... I thought I was going to lose you over a pen."

 

That startled a laugh out of Stiles and he laughed, a wet noise, into Derek's shoulder. "Sorry."

 

"You don't have to be sorry. I... I'd like to know what happened so I know what to do if it happens again," Derek said, a shuddering breath of air departing his lips.

 

"Panic attack; I haven't had one in a while. I... I usually find somewhere private, try to get my breathing under control. I usually get light-headed so I have to sit down. It's either that or fall over if I faint from lack of air. Dad... He used to get me to count backwards from one hundred; it gave me something else to focus on. Sometimes I'd breathe in time with him too. I..." Stiles started to get teary, sniffling as he nose began to get runny, and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

 

"It's all right, Stiles. You can cry," Derek said, voice soft. "Would... would you like me to leave you alone?"

 

Stiles shook his head wordlessly, not trusting his voice. He ducked his head, pressing against Derek's chest firmly and listening to his heartbeat, trying to stop his tears unsuccessfully.

 

"Would you like to tell me about him? Talking might help," Derek said, feeling a little useless.

 

Stiles sniffled again. "He... he was a good man. He just wanted to help people and keep them safe. He didn't deserve to die."

 

Derek stroked Stiles' back as he talked in his arms, hoping the motion was soothing for Stiles. He listened to Stiles' every word, even when he didn't say a thing for minutes at a time. Eventually, Stiles ran out of words and simply cried, soaking the front of Derek's shirt with hot tears, and eventually exhausting himself.

 

When Derek was sure that Stiles was asleep, he lifted Stiles up carefully and carried him over to the bed, setting him down gently and tucking the blanket around him. He didn't know if Stiles would be comfortable with Derek beside him while he was so upset and vulnerable, so he settled into the armchair instead, putting his hand next to Stiles' for as much closeness and comfort as he could provide. Inside his chest, he felt his wolf howl a mournful sound, a sad symphony for his mate's loss.

 

...

 

Stiles woke up feeling dehydrated and cold. He stumbled his way out of the remains of the blanket and over to the bathroom to have a glass of water. When he returned, Stiles frowned when he saw that Derek was curled up on the armchair, looking as miserable as he felt. Stiles couldn't bring himself to wake Derek up and climbed into the armchair, tugging the blanket up over them. He fell asleep within a minute with Derek's arm curled around his waist, and his face tucked into the curve of Derek's shoulder.

 

...

 

"Prepare to get your asses beaten!"

 

"Erica, language."

 

"Sorry, Talia. My point still stands," Erica said to Peter and Isaac, grinning as she dealt out the Uno cards.

 

"Of course it does. Are you sure you two won't join us?" Peter asked Frank and Stiles, who were seated at their chess game, still unfinished from the week before.

 

"When we finish," Stiles said.

 

Derek and Talia were playing Candyland with Susan, the twins, and Cora. Stiles wasn't entirely sure the rules were being followed, but they all looked like they were having fun anyway.

 

"All right, ready?" Frank asked, his hand hovering over the chess board.

 

"Ready."

 

-

 

" _Draw eight?!_ You're cheating!"

 

"Peter, calm down."

 

"Yes, Talia."

 

-

 

"You can't _both_ have six Skips each!"

 

"Peter."

 

"They're cheating!"

 

"No, we're not!"

 

-

 

"I finally win!"

 

"No, you don't."

 

"You didn't say Uno. You have to pick up six cards."

 

"What?! No, I don't!"

 

"It's in the rules."

 

"You tore the rules up last year."

 

"Peter."

 

" _Shit_."

 

"Peter!"

 

-

 

"Aren't you two finished yet? I thought you were only a few moves away from checkmate, Francis?" Peter teased.

 

"Move your hand or I'll do it for you," Frank replied, not moving his gaze away from the board.

 

"I was just going to say goodbye. Honestly, Francis, such hostility! It's only a game."

 

"You're the reason we only play Uno once a month, Peter," Talia replied, taking her brother's hand off her husband's shoulder and placing a dozing infant in Peter's arms.

 

He immediately held Tommy close, cradling his head gently and carefully. "Looks like you're all tuckered out. Who won Candyland?"

 

"I think Susan did officially. Unofficially, Cora won."

 

Peter snickered. "Of course. Well, we'd better be off. See you all tomorrow sometime," he said, leaving with Susan and Robbie after his wife had said her farewells as well.

 

"Are they still playing the same game?" Erica asked Boyd, her voice close to a whisper.

 

"It looks like it."

 

"They haven't moved any pieces in, like, five minutes. Are they even playing anymore, or just screwing with us?" Isaac muttered, looking between the remaining pieces with a frown.

 

Stiles moved his knight a moment later. Frank reached for his pawn, then withdrew just as quickly, studying the board again.

 

"Come on, boys. It's getting late; you can try to finish the game next week instead," Talia said.

 

"No, wait!" Frank said, too excited to realise that he'd disobeyed his wife and Alpha. "Checkmate," he said, the sound almost a sigh of relief instead of an actual word.

 

"What? _Shit_ ," Stiles cursed when he realised that Frank was right.

 

"Stiles, language."

 

"Sorry. But... the point stands," he echoed Erica's earlier words, grinning a bit. "That was a good game, Frank. I've got to brush up on my techniques."

 

"They mustn't be that bad if you came as close to besting my husband as I think you did," Talia said, smiling. "Frank is our main strategist, so it's rare for him to have a challenge when it comes to chess."

 

"I've got some books on chess and strategy in the library, if you're interested?" Frank asked Stiles, eyes bright.

 

"Tomorrow, dear," Talia prompted.

 

"Oh yes. It's later than I realised. Tomorrow?"

 

"Yeah, that'd be great. See you all tomorrow," Stiles said, taking Derek's hand and heading upstairs. "Damn, I can't believe I put myself in that position. It's so obvious in hindsight," he muttered as they changed into their pyjamas.

 

"Dad's going to be over the moon when you talk strategy with him tomorrow. He hasn't had anyone to talk with about it since Laura left. I mean, I think he's been talking with Cora, but it's not the same," Derek said, grinning.

 

"How long until Laura gets back? She's gone looking for her mate, hasn't she?"

 

"Yeah. She should be back next month, I think. She's due for a phone call soon. It'll be good to hear from her again."

 

Stiles hugged Derek and tugged him onto the bed, snuggling in close to Derek's chest. "I'm probably going to dream about chess pieces," he muttered sleepily, yawning widely.

 

Derek laughed, wrapping an arm around Stiles and keeping him close. "I'm not surprised. Sleep well, Stiles."

 

"You too."

 

...

 

Stiles and Derek were asleep for fewer than three hours when a scream filled the air, the sound reverberating in their skulls, and waking both of them immediately.

 

"That wasn't Cora, was it?" Stiles asked.

 

Derek shook his head, looking out the window to the source of the noise. "No, it wasn't."

 

...

 

End of thirteenth chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

Lydia was distracted. It was frustrating because she had no idea _why_ she was distracted. Maths was usually one of her most favoured subjects - the Argents didn't know enough about Maths to actually censor any of it, so it was one of the purer subjects that Beacon Hills High taught. She'd heard of other schools that had full curriculums, ones that weren't censored, and there was even a rumour that one school had actual classes on wolves. Lydia still wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to attend that class, but the idea of having that option was tantalising enough.

 

Still, where her brain should have been occupied with equations, algebra, formulas, everything falling into place exactly where it should be, she couldn't concentrate. Lydia could hear... whispers. They weren't even _proper_ whispers, which was annoying beyond belief. She could _almost_ hear the whispers, _almost_ know what the words were saying, _almost_ put the words into sentences, but just when she thought she had it, they all slipped away.

 

"Lydia?"

 

"What?!"

 

Jackson's eyebrows raised at her tone. "Didn't realise it was your time of month. I'll talk to you tomorrow," he sneered, turning to leave.

 

Usually, that would be enough to get Lydia apologising, playing the ditzy and vapid girl that she knew he wanted. Today, however, Lydia didn't have time for Jackson's dramatics. Ever since Danny had left two weeks ago, Jackson had become even more annoying than usual. No one expected Danny to return - the Argents weren't exactly shy about their homophobic views - and Jackson's best friend leaving town seemed the catalyst for him to turn from a somewhat annoying bully to a full-blown asshole.

 

Lydia ignored Jackson as he stalked away, the whispers drawing her attention once more. She shouldered her bag and followed the whispers towards the school's exit, their noises getting louder - but no clearer, frustratingly.

 

The Argents said that the main entrance was the only safe way into the school, and it was for everyone's safety that they had put alarms on the exit at the other end of the school. As the exit was unwittingly opened at least once a year when the new influx of freshman came into the school, everyone knew for certain that the exit had loud and annoying alarms, designed to drill right into people's brains. Yet, when Lydia opened the door now, there wasn't a sound to be heard.

 

Except for the whispers.

 

She walked outside, following the whispers over the school's back fence, under Beacon Hills' bordering electric fence harmlessly, and into the forest. The forest where wolves were certain to kill anyone who entered, according to the Argents.

 

As Lydia stepped through the forest, her eyes glazed as she focused on a different world all together. She moved between the trees, under branches and over roots, listening and searching. For what, she had no idea. She suspected she would know when she found it. The whispers continued, leading her and Lydia had no choice but to follow them.

 

Around her, there were no noises beyond the whispers. Even the animals were quiet and she briefly considered the wolves that were meant to live in this godforsaken place. She'd been in the forest for what felt like hours now. There was no trail, no of the usual rattling noises from the Beacon Hills bus, and she had no idea where she was, let alone how to get back to town.

 

It took her a moment to realise that the whispers had stopped and she had finally found what she'd been searching for.

 

Lydia screamed.

 

...

 

The scream filled the air, filled their brains, and the only reason Stiles didn't fall out of the bed was because Derek held him tightly, as if to protect him from the source of the scream.

 

Their door was opened hardly a second later, Talia looking inside to ensure they were all right, her hair a mess and eyes red.

 

"Mum... What's - " Derek didn't have a chance to finish his question.

 

"Stay inside!" Talia said, already running down the stairs.

 

Frank was a step behind her, and in the hallway, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were spilling out of their rooms to see what was going on. Derek and Stiles followed them downstairs to see what was happening.

 

Peter was in the front yard, looking out into the forest, his eyes blue and serious.

 

"Do you know what it was?" Talia asked.

 

"I've an inkling, but I've been wrong before. However, if I'm right, the Argents won't let it live for long."

 

Talia's red eyes narrowed slightly, loathing the idea of the Argents killing anything _else_ simply because it existed. "Frank, stay here and look after everyone!"

 

"Susan, stay with the boys. I'll be back soon," Peter promised, darting over to kiss his wife on the cheek before he followed his sister into the forest.

 

"You heard Talia: inside everyone. I'll see if I can get Deaton on the phone; he might have some idea of what's going on," Frank said, herding the betas and Stiles inside the house.

 

Susan followed with the twins, and Frank closed the door firmly behind them, putting down a plank of wood that Stiles doubted was as innocent or as plain as it seemed.

 

They went straight into the lounge room, the window facing the direction Talia and Peter had entered the forest. Derek paced until Stiles tugged him down onto the lounge with him. Erica curled up on Boyd's lap, her legs swung over Isaac's lap. Stiles could see that Isaac was trembling and moved so he and Derek were squeezed in next to Isaac as well. Susan went upstairs with Tommy and Robbie, taking Cora up with her to try to settle them as well as herself. Frank went to call Deaton straight away.

 

"They'll be all right. Talia and Peter wouldn't go into the forest if they couldn't handle it," Stiles said, hoping he sounded confident and reassuring.

 

Isaac nuzzled in against Stiles's chest wordlessly. Stiles stroked his hair, hoping to calm him. It seemed to work, Isaac slowly stopping his trembling and his breathing becoming slow and even as Stiles continued to card his fingers through his curly hair gently.

 

Frank finished his call with Deaton and went into the lounge room quietly. He sat nearby, keeping an eye on the teenagers and listening out for his wife and brother-in-law at the same time. He was tense and worried but he tried to suppress the feeling, knowing that the others would pick up on the emotional spike in his scent.

 

"Did Deaton say anything?" Derek asked.

 

"He has no idea what's going on; he didn't hear a scream," Frank said, shaking his head. "He suggested that we're the only ones who heard it, as he hasn't heard anything from people who live closer to the forest either."

 

"It can't just be werewolves though, otherwise I wouldn't have heard it," Stiles said, frowning.

 

"Deaton's looking at a few possibilities; there are a few creatures who can direct noise purposely. This one could be seeking help or drawing others in to be their food."

 

Beside Stiles, Derek straightened up. "Mum and Uncle Peter..."

 

"They'll be fine. Peter's one of our best fighters, and your mother is more than capable of handling herself. Besides, it's unlikely that the creature would direct noise to one of the most powerful werewolves in the state if it was only wanting food; it would go for something smaller or weaker than it."

 

They fell to an uncomfortable silence, tense and waiting for the slightest indication of what was happening outside in the forest. Isaac was just falling asleep under Stiles' ministrations when there was a long, loud howl. He sat up abruptly, almost knocking into Stiles' chin, and looked at the others.

 

"What does that mean? Was that a good howl or a bad one?" Stiles asked. "Can you tell the difference? How does that even work?"

 

"It was a good howl. They're on their way back," Frank replied.

 

It felt like hours passed, but when they heard footsteps outside on the porch, only minutes had passed. They all rushed out of the lounge room, eager for news. Even Frank, who was still holding Cora close, wasn't that far behind them.

 

Talia glanced at her pack, her eyes still bright red. Beside her, Peter's eyes were bright blue, his fangs still dropped, though he guided their guest with a gentle but firm hand across the small of her back. The girl was trembling, eyes wide, but the sight of a house had calmed her somewhat.

 

"Lydia?" Stiles said, his jaw dropping when he saw her.

 

She looked at him, blinking in confusion. "Bilinski, isn't it?"

 

"Uh, no, Stilinski. Stiles," he replied, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

 

"Oh. You were Scott's friend in primary school, weren't you? How did you end up here? The Argent Daily said you killed your father and ran."

 

" _What?!_ " Stiles' embarrassment gave way to shock and then anger.

 

"Stiles was this year's sacrifice," Erica corrected, realising that Stiles' emotions were too strong to let him say anything else.

 

Lydia looked to Erica, as if trying to remember who she was as well, but shook her head. "Greenberg was the sacrifice. He... I found his body," she said, trembling all over again.

 

"We can finish this discussion inside. Isaac, Boyd, find some warmer clothes and blankets for Lydia, please," Talia said, nodding to them.

 

Both betas disappeared to do as she said. Feeling like his insides had turned to lead and dropped down to his feet, Stiles let Derek move him out of the doorway so Talia, Peter, and Lydia could come inside. Erica glanced between them all and then followed after her Alpha, leaving Derek and Stiles alone for the moment.

 

"Stiles?" Derek asked, his voice soft and urgent, worried at how pale Stiles was and the turmoil of emotions he could scent. "Stiles, talk to me."

 

Stiles opened his mouth once, closed it, then opened it again before snapping his jaw shut. He shook his head abruptly. Then he tried to talk again, his eyes filling with tears.

 

Derek didn't know what to do. He stood there, staring for what felt an age, and finally he held his arms open, Stiles falling into them to sob against his chest. Derek held him close, tears in his own eyes.

 

"It was nothing. All of it. Nothing."

 

"Hmm?" Derek murmured, voice still soft, not quite sure what Stiles was saying.

 

"He died for nothing; my sacrifice was for nothing. _Nothing_ ," Stiles said, trembling.

 

Derek did the only thing he could do and held Stiles tighter.

 

...

 

They were both quiet when they went into the lounge room where the others were waiting, several large blankets wrapped and dwarfing the redhead sitting on the lounge. No one said anything about Derek and Stiles' red eyes.

 

Lydia had already started telling her story, her eyes unfocused as she explained and told them everything, starting with hearing whispers in the school. They listened intently, her voice washing over them, stumbling and starting in places, breaking off into a sob once or twice.

 

By the time she was finished, Talia was no longer looking at her, but Peter. On realising where their Alpha was looking, the rest of the pack looked to Peter as well. He looked back at them, looking all together far too smug.

 

"Peter," Talia said, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

"Yes, dearest Alpha?"

 

She just waited.

 

"Oh, the girl? A banshee, if I'm not mistaken. I could be wrong," Peter said.

 

"You rarely are, most of the time," Susan said from the doorway. "The boys need you," she added, holding out a hand.

 

Peter crossed the room to his wife without hesitation. "Of course, dearest. Are you all right?" he asked, guiding Susan upstairs.

 

"A banshee?" Lydia echoed, her eyes wide again. "B-but, how?"

 

"Honestly, I have no idea. It's not uncommon for people to find they're not quite human after a traumatic event has occurred, but in your case, it seems like it happened before the event. If you don't mind, I'd like to call our friend to see you in the morning; he may have some more answers. It would mean you'd have to stay here overnight, are you okay with that? If not, we can set you up in a tent - "

 

"I've had enough of the outdoors for now. Thank you," Lydia added quickly.

 

Talia nodded. "Of course. I'll show you to your room. There's a bathroom, so feel free to freshen up," she said.

 

Lydia looked more grateful about the idea of a shower than she did of a bed indoors. "Uh... No one's going to attack me, are they?" she asked, looking at the others warily.

 

Erica grinned sharply and was elbowed by Boyd.

 

"You won't be harmed by anyone in this house," Talia promised. "Good night, everyone. You have school in the morning," she added, ignoring the groans from most of the pack.

 

Lydia blinked, surprised at the idea of werewolves going to school, but she stood when Talia did and let the older woman guide her upstairs to her room and the shower. She'd feel much better when she was clean. Talia rested her hand on Lydia's elbow gently to guide and scent her, making sure the others in her pack wouldn't attack Lydia as a stranger in their home.

 

"Well, that was interesting. You okay, Isaac?" Erica asked, looking at him.

 

Isaac yawned widely and nodded. "Tired. Haven't slept well the last few nights," he admitted.

 

"You can come cuddle with me and Boyd. That'll help you sleep," Erica offered.

 

"You won't tickle me?" he asked warily.

 

"No, you're too sharp and bony," she said, remembering the elbows and sharp claws she'd received the last time she'd tickled Isaac.

 

"All right. Boyd, will you carry me?" Isaac asked with a grin.

 

Boyd nodded and turned so Isaac could jump on his back. He looked tired as well, but nodded goodbye to the others, climbing up the stairs to his room. Erica followed after them, throwing a farewell over her shoulder.

 

"Are they..." Stiles trailed off, deciding he didn't actually care.

 

"I think that's enough excitement for one night. Head to bed and try to get some sleep. Talia's right: you've got school in the morning," Frank said, guiding Derek and Stiles to the staircase.

 

"'Night Dad."

 

Stiles took Derek's hand as they went upstairs, his emotions in turmoil and trying to find some way to centre himself again.

 

Talia almost bumped into them on the way back down, her expression pinched with worry.

 

"Are you all right, Mum?" Derek asked, stopping when he saw her expression and scented her worry.

 

"I'm fine. I'm just concerned that the others might think of Lydia as a threat. She has a distinctive smell that is a bit... nerve-wracking," she admitted. "It's different with the sacrifices, since they have the oil and herbs, or in your case, a bonding bite," Talia added, nodding to Stiles. "But she smells like a banshee: shrouded in death and dirt."

 

Stiles forced himself to stop wallowing in his own feelings for longer than a heartbeat. "Would mountain ash help?" he asked.

 

Talia seemed surprised at his question. "Yes, I think it might. If you could put a line along her doorway, I think I'd sleep a little better tonight for all of our sakes. Thank you, Stiles; I know this must be difficult for you," she added, putting a warm hand on his shoulder before she headed downstairs.

 

Stiles felt Derek's gaze on him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Derek just yet. Instead, Stiles darted ahead to their room, found his small bag of mountain ash, and headed over to the spare room where Lydia slept. Derek made his way over to Stiles, standing beside him, more alert and aware of Stiles roiling emotions now.

 

"It smells like gym socks. _Old_ gym socks," Derek said, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

 

"How do you think I hid it from you?" Stiles asked with a forced grin.

 

Lydia was already asleep, her door ajar to let in some light and ensure that they would hear if something went wrong during the night. With a brief amount of concentration, Stiles trailed a line of mountain ash along the doorway. He left the door ajar, and with his job done for the night, Stiles headed back with Derek to their room.

 

He didn't bother hiding the mountain ash this time, putting it up on a shelf so they'd both know where it was. Stiles threw his smelly gym socks in the laundry basket as well, then went to wash his hands to rid himself of any stray grains of ash.

 

Once they were settled in their bed again, Derek pulled Stiles close and tucked him in against his chest. Stiles let the last hour's events replay in his mind over and over, thinking about Lydia's words, how Greenberg had been named as sacrifice, not him.

 

 _Kate must have_ ** _hated_** _him to make him a sacrifice, only to tell everyone in town that he'd killed his own father and run away. What about the people who had seen the Argents dragging him away? His neighbours, Allison,_ Scott? _Did they truly believe he'd run away? Or did they think the Argents had killed him, or that they'd sent him off to be killed by the wolves in the forest? Hell, did they even think for themselves, or just blindly believe everything they were told just because an Argent said it was true?_

 

Despite being held in Derek's arms and breathing in his calming scent, it took a long time for Stiles to calm his mind and fall asleep again. Though he was tired, breathing steadily and had his eyes closed, Derek took even longer to fall asleep. He spent the extra time leaching Stiles' pain until he was sure that Stiles would be able to sleep peacefully. Derek fell asleep as the black lines on his arms faded away, wishing he could do more to help.

 

...

 

End of thirteenth chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles woke up in the morning, feeling a lot better than he expected. He turned in Derek's arms and cuddled in against his warm body, his eyes closed, not ready to face the world just yet. He managed another five minutes of sleep before Derek woke up, his heart beat changing its pace beneath Stiles' ear.

 

"Morning," Derek murmured, turning his face to press a kiss to Stiles' temple.

 

"Morning," Stiles replied, reluctantly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Was last night a dream? A really bad one?"

 

"If you mean that redheaded girl being found in the woods, then no, it wasn't a dream. If you mean something else, then I've got no idea," Derek replied.

 

Stiles sighed and nodded, looking over to Derek's clock. "We'd better get ready before someone knocks on the door."

 

Derek tugged Stiles close and hugged him, both of them wordless for a long moment. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know, okay?"

 

Stiles clung to Derek a little tighter and nodded against his neck. They pulled away reluctantly and Stiles headed into the ensuite to shower and get dressed.

 

...

 

Stiles decided to check in on Lydia once he and Derek were ready to head downstairs, knocking on the doorframe when he saw she was awake. Lydia was already dressed in borrowed clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed, her head snapping up at the sound of his knuckles against the wooden frame. "Hey, Lydia."

 

"Stiles, right?" she asked, trying to reaffirm her hazy memories from the previous long and stressful day.

 

He nodded. "Right. You okay?"

 

"I... I don't know."

 

"Rare for you not to know something," Stiles said with a quick grin.

 

"I would've known exactly how I was feeling an hour or so before I found Greenberg's body. Now, I don't know," Lydia said, shrugging and looking down at the rug on the floor.

 

"Breakfast is ready," Erica called from the bottom of the stairs.

 

"How's food sound?"

 

"What do they eat?" Lydia asked warily, obviously thinking of the various stories from the _Argent Daily_ about the monsters and their appetites for human flesh and blood.

 

"For breakfast? Probably more toast than you'd eat in a month. Lunch and dinner vary but there's usually carbs and proteins and veggies if I can sneak in enough without Cora pitching a fit."

 

Lydia took in the new information with a slight frown and a nod. "All right. Who's Cora?"

 

"My younger sister. Ready, Stiles?" Derek asked, looking to him and taking his hand after a brief moment of hesitation.

 

"Sure am. Just make sure to step over the line without disturbing it. If you need some time alone, the room's safe."

 

Lydia paused before she reached the doorway. "What do you mean by _safe?_ " she asked warily.

 

Stiles winced at his poor choice of words. "Sorry, I could've phrased that better. It's just... difficult to get a moment of peace around here. Werewolves have really good hearing and noses and _some people_ try to catch you making out with your boyfriend. - "

 

"That was once, Stilinski! I haven't tried again, you two are way too boring," Erica interrupted, snickering.

 

"The room has a spell on it to stop the 'wolves from hearing, and the mountain ash keeps them out if you want to be left alone," Stiles added, nodding down to the line of black ash across the doorway.

 

Lydia still seemed hesitant about the whole thing, but she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before and she was hungry enough to follow Stiles and Derek downstairs to the dining room. That, and she was curious about whatever _spell_ Stiles meant.

 

"Good morning, Lydia. I hope you slept well?" Talia asked as she entered the dining room with Stiles and Derek.

 

"Surprisingly, yes. I didn't expect to after finding... after yesterday," Lydia said, looking paler than usual.

 

"That's quite understandable. Our emissary has a sister who is a psychiatrist; I'm sure she'll make time to talk to you, if you would like to do so," Talia offered. She indicated to a seat that had been brought to the table for Lydia.

 

"Your emissary?" Lydia asked, sitting at the indicated seat. She took a piece of toast but shook her head at the offer of strawberry jam, opting for honey instead of the far too red condiment.

 

"Yes, he is our... protector of sorts; he is well versed in magic, though you may know him as Beacon's veterinarian."

 

"Dr. Deaton? He treated Prada when she was sick last year," Lydia mused to herself.

 

"He treated your handbag?" Isaac asked, frowning from where his head was resting against Boyd's bicep.

 

"My dog's name is Prada," she replied absent-mindedly. "Am I able to return to Beacon?" Lydia asked Talia, looking at her with a sharper gaze than she'd had the day before.

 

Talia considered the question as she sipped at her tea. "I believe you could, though you would need to come up with a convincing story as to how you survived in the forest for two days. You may be... questioned by the Argents," she added, sounding delicate and almost apologetic.

 

Lydia had heard enough about the Argent Artillery from Jackson to know that 'questioned' really meant 'interrogated' and she shook her head. She hadn't survived finding Greenberg's body and being in the forest, practically starved and half-naked for a full day, just to be tortured by her own townspeople.

 

"I'll pass, thanks. What's your curriculum like?" Lydia asked, looking between the betas and Talia.

 

"I teach AP classes for Algebra, Maths, English, Physics, and Chemistry. Frank teaches Spanish, though Peter can teach Latin and Greek," Talia replied.

 

"Don't forget Stiles' school," Erica said, grinning.

 

"What do _you_ teach?" Lydia asked Stiles, looking at him almost in disbelief.

 

"He taught us how to make traps," Derek said defensively.

 

Lydia frowned slightly, then she blinked and looked at Stiles in a new light. " _You're_ the reason Scott and Allison came to school covered in bandages."

 

"What?" he asked, almost choking on his breakfast.

 

"Soon after you ran... were chosen for sacrifice," Lydia amended, "Scott and Allison turned up bloodied and bandaged. The Argents said they narrowly escaped a wolf's attack and then they increased the curfew for a week, but Allison told me later that they'd been trying to find something in a booby-trapped house and something had exploded. I expect that was your handiwork?"

 

Stiles sat up a little straighter and nodded. "Yeah. I set the oven to explode when the microwave was opened."

 

"Huh, interesting. How do you feel about Molotov cocktails?"

 

"Please, no discussion about weapons at the table," Talia said, though she did look amused. Her amusement faded fast as she reflected on Lydia's words: _the Argents said they narrowly escaped a wolf's attack_. "I think we've all had a big night, school can be skipped for today. Stiles, Lydia, I would like to see both of you in my study after breakfast. You're not in trouble," she added, scenting the spike in their emotions. "Could the others please ensure that the house is tidy for Dr. Deaton's arrival this morning?"

 

A small groan went through her betas, but she quelled their response with a look. Breakfast finished in relative silence, Cora gnawing on her cutlery and glowering at Lydia. Stiles tried to gauge how fast Cora was growing - _was she taller than she had been yesterday, or was it his imagination?_

 

...

 

Once breakfast had finished, the betas dispersed to do their Alpha's bidding, Derek squeezing Stiles' hand gently before he left to help. Talia smiled at Stiles and Lydia, though Stiles thought her smile seemed a little thin, and she indicated for them to follow her to her study off the library. She closed the French doors behind them. Stiles glanced over his shoulder, surprised to see a symbol etched into the frame and door, connecting and glowing dimly. It was one of Deaton's spells, a rune to provide silence, if he remembered the slim book of runes correctly.

 

"I would like to talk without the others overhearing," Talia explained as she moved around them to sit at her large oak desk. "Please, sit. This isn't an inquisition," she added with another smile, still a bit thinner than usual.

 

Stiles sat down, Lydia sitting on the seat beside him. They both waited silently, Stiles' leg jittering in nerves.

 

"I am... concerned about what the Argents are telling the townspeople of Beacon about us. Stiles, the information and advertisements for Argent Artillery were concerning enough, but then hearing that they're saying we're attacking people and finding the boy's remains... I am afraid that this will encourage people to find and harm us. The Argents know enough about us that they can... provoke our transformation unwillingly, and if we're shown to be the monsters they say we are, then it will result in our deaths."

 

"Why deaths?" Lydia asked, surprised.

 

"We will not harm them. Enough people already believe us to be bloodthirsty monsters; I won't have my pack prove them right," Talia said firmly.

 

"But if they're attacking first, it's in self-defense!" Lydia protested.

 

Talia shook her head. "It will not be seen that way; they can twist their words until the whole world believes the falsehood. I will not risk an all-out war between our kind and humankind."

 

"So you're just going to roll over and _take it?!_ Why not go out there and kill your whole damn pack now? Isn't that what you're condemning them to anyway: death?" Stiles snapped, seething at Talia's complacency with the whole thing.

 

"We will do as we've done before and hide," Talia replied, not looking too perturbed at his response, as if she had heard the argument before. "Alan should be here shortly; he knows what to do, as he has done it before. We will wait until the Argents have led their usual expedition throughout the forest, and we will be fine."

 

Stiles frowned, then his expression turned to one of recognition. "The wards he put up that confined you all for a week?"

 

Talia nodded. "His wards kept the houses and clearing hidden, and the Argents walked straight past us without noticing. Twice, in fact."

 

"That's no way to live," Stiles protested. He ran his hands over his face briefly. "Did they kill anyone last time?"

 

Talia shook her head. "No. We did find some animals in the forest that had been killed in a less-than-humane manner, but thought it was a mountain lion that had passed through the week before. It was a few days before Alan informed us of the Argents' scheduled wolf hunt, though with the stress of everything else, I didn't connect the dots."

 

"Stress?" Lydia queried, curious.

 

"Susan was pregnant at the time; Peter was all for hunting the Argents for threatening his wife and babies. I had to expend quite a bit of energy to keep him subdued along with the rest of my pack, who were already worried enough about their schooling and exams."

 

"The Argents do usually coordinate their hunts closer to the end of the school year," Lydia mused.

 

"It's more incentive for the stressed students to drop out if they know they can get in on the Argent Artillery just by participating in a hunt. If they don't have to worry about exams for the rest of their lives, compared to completing their final exams, most people would pick the former," Stiles said.

 

"Then they're idiots," Lydia muttered.

 

"That's kind of the point: the Argents want people who are smart enough to get to their final year of schooling, but not smart enough to ask questions. They'll do what they're told, no questions asked."

 

Talia looked from the two young humans across from her and then to the Argent propaganda that littered her table. One of the pictures depicted a grotesque wolf, deformed and frothing at the mouth, blood on its claws and elongated maw. It wasn't the sleek, majestic animal she knew from her own transformation, nor her mother's, or grandfather's wolf. It was ugly and threatening and designed to keep an entire town submissive to the Argents' every whim.

 

"They are trying to incite a war with us," Talia said, interrupting the teenagers' argument about schooling and military service.

 

Stiles frowned and scratched the back of his head. "Well, yeah. The Argents have been trying to hunt your pack down for years. I think the last slogan was something about cleansing the earth of the monster wolf scum?"

 

"Demonic monster wolf scum," Lydia corrected. "Very few people believe them, of course. It's only when they come out with the torn clothes and mutilated woodland creatures that anyone pays any attention to what they're saying, really."

 

"And with Greenberg's death, what do you think that's going to do?" Stiles replied pointedly.

 

Lydia acquiesced with a nod. "They'll turn the whole town into a bloodthirsty mob. Not over Greenberg's death, of course, since he wasn't well-known by anyone apart from Coach, but they'll ramp up the safety concerns and use mothers to convince fathers that their children aren't safe."

 

"We could be lucky and they'll just leave town instead," Stiles mused, though he didn't sound as though he believed his own words.

 

Talia shook her head. "No. As I said before: the Argents have ways of twisting their words. They'll convince people that in order to be safe from the wolves, they need to hunt us down and exterminate us. How big is the town's population?"

 

"Almost two-thousand last spring," Lydia replied.

 

"Well, they're not getting the children or elderly in the mob. They'll probably convince most full-time parents, those in light jobs, and any medical personnel to stay behind, which takes the mob down to about... six-hundred people. Give or take about ten," Stiles said.

 

"I don't think Alan can deflect a crowd that big."

 

"They're bound to put them into smaller groups - not even the Argents want six-hundred people trampling through the forest. Sixty groups of ten sounds more reasonable, though they might do smaller or larger groups instead. Either way, they'll include one or two of their own people in each group so there's some way of knowing what's going on; what was the last intake?" Stiles asked, looking to Lydia.

 

"Jackson, Theo, and Heather were accepted."

 

"Heather?" Stiles asked sharply, his eyes widening in surprise.

 

When they were younger, Heather had always been adamant in her refusal about joining the Argent Artillery. He supposed times had changed since they were children, but even in the last round of recruitment (right around mid-terms, of course), Stiles had seen that Heather had walked away from the recruiter before they'd even finished their usual spiel.

 

"Jackson kept complaining about how she kept sneaking off during training and their group was being punished for it. Last I heard, Kate Argent was planning on talking to her to find out why she was sneaking off," Lydia said, almost apologetically.

 

Stiles knew first-hand what was involved with Kate and her _talks_ ; by now, Heather was either dead or wishing she was. His hands clenched tightly at the thought of Heather being hurt by the likes of Kate Argent. "Has anyone else been left in the forest?"

 

"No. We haven't scented anyone since you arrived. Admittedly, we don't venture as far as where we found Lydia, so we might have missed her."

 

"Unless she was tied up and chained like I was, it's unlikely that Heather would've stayed in one spot. She either would've tried to go back to town or headed deeper into the forest."

 

"I can send Frank to investigate; he's faster and not as noticeable as Peter," Talia added.

 

Stiles wanted to protest, but with the memory of Kate leaning over him, her face twisted into a grotesque smile as she tore the clothes from his body to prepare him for sacrifice, he could do nothing but nod.

 

"I will convene with Alan to discuss our strategies. I may need to call on both of you again today, but for now, please try not to worry," Talia said with a tight smile.

 

"Thank you, Alpha Talia," Stiles said, standing and leaving, Lydia a step beside him.

 

They passed Frank, who didn't look like his usual cheerful self as he headed into the study, closing the door behind him.

 

...

 

"Are you all right?" Lydia asked Stiles as they headed upstairs. She sounded hesitant, as though she didn't quite know how to ask the loaded question of someone she didn't really know all that well.

 

Stiles barely glanced at her and shook his head. "Not really, no."

 

Derek was waiting on the landing looking anxious. Stiles held his arms open and Derek was embracing him a heartbeat later, pressing his face into his neck.

 

"Gross, aren't they?" Erica snickered, looking at Lydia.

 

Lydia had been watching them closely, seeing the tension leaking out of both of their shoulders as they hugged firmly, and wondered if she'd ever felt that kind of emotional relief from a hug before. She looked to Erica, saw the bright red lipstick and nail polish, the dark eyeshadow and darker eyeliner, and suddenly felt naked without her own set of armour. "Can I borrow your makeup?"

 

Erica seemed surprised at her question, but then she smiled, white teeth showing through bright red lips, and she held out her hand. "Come on. We'll go over to Susan's. She could probably do with a pampering session as well. I'd rather not be here when Deaton arrived anyway. Boyd and Isaac'll finish cleaning up."

 

"You suck, Erica!" Isaac called from somewhere in the house.

 

Lydia smiled and took Erica's hand, letting the blonde girl lead her back downstairs and over to Peter and Susan's home.

 

Stiles held onto Derek a little tighter, wishing he didn't feel so helpless. He'd taught himself how to create traps, how to use his father's shotgun, how to play chess and strategise every last little detail, and yet he felt utterly useless in that moment.

 

Derek pulled away slowly, his hand sliding down Stiles' arm until he could thread their fingers together. He guided Stiles to their room and closed the door behind them tightly. "What happened?"

 

Stiles explained the best he could about how the Argents were gearing up for a war, how they were planning on using an angry and terrified mob of townspeople against them, and how he'd learnt his childhood friend had either been tortured or killed by the Argents.

 

For a long time, Derek was silent. He finally stepped in close to Stiles, stopping his pacing, and taking his hands, squeezing gently. "What do you need me to do?"

 

"Huh?" was Stiles' eloquent response.

 

"You've got some sort of a plan, don't you? I brought some things up to help you," Derek added, nodding over to the desk where several balls of string, thumbtacks, highlighters, and markers were sitting. "You're a visual learner, right?" he added uncertainly when Stiles didn't respond immediately.

 

Stiles looked at Derek, his blue-green-gold eyes looking back at him, earnest and trusting and loving and so many other things that he couldn't even begin to name, let alone recognise. Stiles kissed him firmly, trying to respond in kind. Then, as he pulled away, Stiles squeezed Derek's hand thanks and headed over to the supplies piled on the desk.

 

"I'm going to need that wall," Stiles said, nodding over to the wall that currently had two bookcases filled to the brim with books and ornaments, with Derek's bulky armchair sitting between them.

 

Derek pushed up his sleeves and grinned.

 

 _Now **this** was something he could do_. 

 

"No problem."

 

...

 

End of fifteenth chapter.


End file.
